


So Loved

by MoonFox



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, BAMF Merlin, Broken Friendship, Canon Divergence, Episode: s05e04 Another's Sorrow, F/M, Reveal, Romance, Royalty, Secret Admirer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-05-28 09:44:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 86,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6324337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonFox/pseuds/MoonFox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mithian has a secret admirer. Arthur suspects his servant, but he doesn't expect is Rodor's connection to Merlin's family history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Feast of Discovery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ExcaliburMaiden](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ExcaliburMaiden).



> This was originally a one-shot idea/gift for ExcaliburMaiden, posted in 2015 on ffnet and tHoC. It has now exploded into a multi-chapter fic. Proofread by Nance, any remaining errors are all my own. Special thanks to Sarajm, MadameMorganLeFey, IsisAthena, and others in tHoC's chatroom for their help in brainstorming to bring this idea to full light. Semi-Canon Divergent for Season 5. Cross-posted at fanfiction.net and Writing.Whimsicalwanderings.net.

Nearly a month had passed since Odin and Morgana had nearly destroyed Nemeth.  Despite the recent siege of Nemeth, King Rodor insisted on hosting a feast for the King of Camelot and his knights to thank them for their help in restoring his throne. The white marble gleamed in the candlelight and cast a warm glow over the guests. A tentative peace treaty had been signed with Odin before he had departed back to his own kingdom. A sense of relief and camaraderie had fallen over everyone in the Great Hall.

Arthur shifted and held his cup out for a refill. He was instantly rewarded by the sound of the wine spilling into the vessel. Confused by the immediate response, he looked up at the servant and was momentarily caught by surprise that it wasn't Merlin.

Outrageous laughter broke through his confusion, and he glanced over at the table where his knights sat. Merlin was tucked in between Gwaine and Percival at the lower table. It was King Rodor's insistence that put Merlin, normally a servant, into a place of honor at the feast.

For this one night, Merlin's diligence in protecting Princess Mithian was being rewarded. Arthur couldn't recall a recent time when Merlin had seemed so carefree and happy. Lately, there always seemed to be a bit of a dark cloud following the young man, especially since the troubles they had faced in Ismere at Morgana's hands. He wished he knew what was going through his servant's head, but his position as king held his tongue. Berating himself silently, he wondered why, if he could take a servant as a wife, why couldn't he actually acknowledge Merlin as a real friend? His deeply ingrained adherence to station kept him from taking that next step.

Merlin understood...didn't he? Sometimes Arthur wasn't entirely sure.

For a brief moment, the blond monarch thought he'd caught Merlin's eye, but then he realized the servant wasn't looking at him. Instead, the servant's longing gaze fell to the place beside Arthur. Princess Mithian was glorious in her golden gown. Dark waves of freshly washed hair fell softly around her shoulders. She was trying to listen to her father's discussion, but Arthur could tell that recent events still had her shaken. Long sleeves barely covered the red mark left by the magic Morgana had used on the bracelet.  The princess’ hands were clasped tightly together under the table.

"...I don't suppose you could offer any suggestions, Arthur?" Rodor's voice shook Arthur from his reverie.

He smiled politely and shook his head. "I'm sorry, I must have drifted off there for a moment."

Nemeth's king chuckled, "Yes, I think we are all still recovering from our recent trials. I can apreciate how difficult it must be to leave your own kingdom at this time, with your sister still on the loose."

Opening his mouth, Arthur tried to find a way around his lack of attentiveness to the conversation. He closed it and nodded once. "Indeed. Please, what was your question again?"

"I was simply asking if you had any suggestions about a possible suitor for my daughter." The older king chuckled and took a sip of his wine. "After what happened, I need to find someone who can take care of her and our kingdom should anything happen to me."

"Father, please..." Mithian tried to protest. Her voice trembled with emotion and her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

"Now, daughter, I know you have your heart set on someone, but it can never be."

Arthur's curiosity piqued. He had no idea that Mithian was in love with someone. "Why, who is this suitor?"

Rodor sighed in exasperation. "It isn't a suitor. At least, not by any normal means. For years now, my daughter has been receiving occasional letters and trinkets from an unknown source. The author claims to be in love with her, yet has never signed his name nor made his presence known. We don't even know where these are coming from."

"A secret admirer? How intriguing is that?" He noticed the hint of a smile that crept onto the princess' face. "I remember when I first began courting Guinevere. My father most certainly did not approve. So, I tried to send her secret notes and gifts, but she always knew who they were from. Merlin was never very subtle in his delivery." The moment the words came out of his mouth, his eyes turned toward his servant.

Although it was subtle, Arthur could see the way Merlin's gaze kept fluttering back to Mithian when he thought no one was looking. "Tell me, when did this suitor begin sending you notes?"

"Please, King Arthur, do not play into my daughter's flight of fancy. I have sent countless men out trying to track down the sender over the years, to no avail."

"Years?" The mystery of Princess Mithian's admirer deepened. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and implored them to continue. "How many years?"

"Oh, four... five, perhaps. As a matter of fact, they started arriving not long after her journey to Camelot."

"Ah." Steepling his hands in front of his face, Arthur nodded as he began to understand what Rodor was implying. "You think it could be someone from Camelot? One of my knights, perhaps?"

Rodor held out his hands to indicate he couldn't say.

"Princess Mithian." Arthur's sudden attention caused her jump. "Do you, by chance, have any of the letters you were sent?"

She looked at her father nervously. After being unable to locate the sender, Rodor had implored his daughter to be rid of all the messages and trinkets. Nothing sent to her was of any real value. A few pieces of poorly crafted jewelry, an occasional vial of perfume...nothing of real splendor to note. The king nodded his consent and Mithian carefully withdrew a crumpled parchment from her belt.

She reluctantly handed it to Arthur. Unfolding the paper carefully, he noticed how worn it seemed...as if she had kept it with her constantly; pulling it out often to read it and refold it, and then hide it again. The contents of the message were simple: "You are so loved."

Arthur had to pause. He remembered when he had said goodbye to her years before.  _ "I would give up my own kingdom to be so loved." _ Mithian had said to him on the steps of Camelot. "Hmm... that is a very sweet message."

For a second his eyes narrowed, but he was quick to school his face back to ignorance as he returned the parchment. "I can't say I recognize the writing. Were the other notes just as elusive?"

"They were."

"I will look into it when I return to Camelot, if you like." Mithian's eyes sparkled with hope for the first time since her father had mentioned her needing a proper suitor.

"Don't bother yourself too much with it, Arthur. I know you have duties that take precedence over one anonymous admirer."

He had to agree with Rodor on that. Although, his mind was already churning over the implications of what he had seen in the note. For the time being, he wasn't going to tell them that he actually suspected who the author was. Lifting his cup to his lips, his eyes once again sought out the dark haired servant sitting with his knights.


	2. Questioning the Source

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur reminds Merlin of his place.

The fire from the stone hearth cast out its warmth. Arthur’s feet, still damp from a wonderful soak in water mixed with some herbs to relieve the aches, basked in the comforting heat. His elbow rested on the arm of the ornate chair.  Its high, straight back did nothing to relieve the aches in his spine. With his chin resting on his hand, his blue eyes reflected the glowing reds and oranges of the nearby flames.

Cautiously, his eyes would shift to his manservant when he thought Merlin wasn’t looking. He knew he should confront Merlin about the notes that MIthian had shown him. But, what good would come of it, he wondered.

If Arthur acknowledged the letters, he would be forced to follow through with a decision he was sure to dislike. In some aspect, it would be hypocritical of him to deny Merlin’s feelings for the Princess of Nemeth. Guinevere had been nothing more than a servant herself, when Arthur’s own feelings had surfaced.

It was true that her father had been a highly sought after blacksmith. So much so, that even an outlaw sorcerer had conscribed him to turn a benign lump of metal into gold with the use of a magical artifact. Sadly, however, that had been Tom’s undoing.

Merlin, on the other hand, was the bastard son of a simple peasant farmer -- a serf -- working the land for some rich noble in Essetir. The man’s only status came from his apprenticeship to the Court Physician, and from the position of manservant he had been awarded by Uther long ago. As well, Mithian wasn’t a princess in Camelot. No, Arthur’s servant had to go and fall in love with a princess from a completely different kingdom.

He had no doubt that King Rodor was grateful to Merlin for saving his daughter. But, was it enough to make Rodor, a man of royal blood who could trace the lineage of his reign back further than even the foundation stones of Camelot’s castle, rethink his own position on the social acceptance of a servant?

Inhaling deeply through his nose, Arthur watched his manservant putter around the room, preparing it for Arthur to sleep. Merlin had been rambling on, regaling Arthur with stories the knights had told him during the feast. They were tales Arthur already knew, and some adventures he’d participated in himself. He wondered for a moment why they seemed to capture Merlin’s attention so strongly.

Then, he remembered that tonight had been one of the few feasts Merlin had ever been allowed to attend as something other than a servant. Guinevere had been able to slip into the life of a lady easily.  Her years as Morgana’s maid had given her an appreciation for some of the finer details on posture and poise when it came to etiquette in the Court. Merlin rarely displayed such an adherence to propriety.

Could he actually transcend beyond his role as servant to be a suitor to a princess? There were times Arthur may have thought so, but the bumbling, clumsy idiot part of the man would always make itself known shortly after.

“It won’t work, you know,” Arthur said quietly, his inattention to Merlin’s ramblings obvious.

Merlin paused. His hands stilled as they pulled down the bedcovers. He quirked his eyebrow up in a manner that remind Arthur of Gaius. The manservant’s eyes shifted back and forth trying to make sense of Arthur’s abrupt input to what had been a one-sided conversation. “Well, Gwaine already did get the girl and the mead,” he said, referring to the story he’d been retelling. “Are you saying you don’t think he’d be able to do it again?”

“No. I’m talking about Princess Mithian. I saw one of the letters she received and recognized the handwriting, though I told King Rodor I didn’t.” He stared at Merlin, waiting for the man to respond.

For a second, Merlin’s face paled, before he turned away and back to his task. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come off it, Merlin. You’re in love with her. I could see it each time you looked at her across the room tonight.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Merlin continued messing with the bedcovers, seemingly more interested in making certain they had just the right amount of crease where they turned down.

Scoffing, Arthur turned back toward the fire. “Yes, you do. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up. She’s a princess.”

The king expected argument from Merlin. Something along the lines of how it had all worked out for Arthur and Gwen, or how even kings couldn’t know the future. He was surprised to hear a quietly uttered, “I know.”

Turning around, Arthur stared at his friend, wondering at the resigned tone of his servant’s voice.

“Will there be anything else, Sire?” Merlin stood up, having finished with the bed and the rest of his chores, and waited for Arthur to respond.

From their first meeting, Merlin had always been a fighter. He had a loud mouth and seemed unconcerned with who he faced off against. Lately, it was as if a darkness had settled over Merlin. It had been on the way to Ismere, to free Arthur’s men from Morgana, that the real change had taken place. Arthur didn’t miss the sideways glances Merlin gave to Mordred, as if always expecting the young man to do something.

He wanted to say something, do something, that would draw his companion out from behind the walls that had formed. But, Arthur could think of nothing that would break the shell around his servant. So much had happened in the past few months, after years of peace since Arthur had married Guinevere. He had never stopped to contemplate the impact it might have had on Merlin.

It scared him to think he’d almost lost the man to Morgana’s latest ruse. What if he hadn’t been there when Arthur was facing off with Odin? There was always a mystery around Merlin that clung to him like a second skin.

“You should go tell her. She has had her hopes up all these years that her secret admirer would come sweep her off her feet. It would be a pity if she never had a chance to move on to someone more befitting her status.”

“You married a servant...”

“But, I am a king, Merlin. A man. She has no such freedom to choose. Her husband must be someone who is able to lead a kingdom.”

 


	3. Reflection and Reluctance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin finds himself in a predicament he can't escape from when he is confronted, and to make matters worse, he's not sure if he wants to.

Merlin hung his head. Arthur’s words had only served to remind him of his place. 

Morgana had always been out of his reach.  Although he had considered her a friend at one time, she had still looked down on him as a servant.   Gwen had been his first friend in Camelot, and while they had flirted -- even kissing once -- it had never gone beyond that.

His brief affair with Freya had been powerful, but his grief for someone he had known so briefly had lifted shortly afterward.  He still thought of her and what they could have had together, even though he had long ago come to terms with the fact it never could have been.  

Mithian had been different in so many ways.   Mithian had been everything a princess should have been -- stately, beautiful, kind.  She was above and beyond what he had envisioned, especially after having dealt with princesses like Vivian and Elena.  

He would have gladly served her as the Queen of Camelot, if he didn’t know that Arthur would have been completely miserable in the union.   The king’s heart would always belong to Guinevere and Merlin truly believed he would have been betraying both his best friends.   

He also suspected that Agravaine, and possibly Morgana, had a hand in making the arrangement with Nemeth to distract Arthur, while they stole plans for the siege tunnels and made alliances with the Southrons. 

Over the course of the week that Mithian stayed in Camelot, Merlin found himself falling for the dark-haired princess.  She was kind to him in a way no noble had ever been.  When she spoke to him, it had been with respect for him as a man, even knowing that he wasn’t supportive of her advances toward Arthur.  

He had stood near the doors, as the king had bid her farewell from the bottom of the steps. Her heart-felt words had seared into his soul.   _ “I would give up my kingdom to be so loved.” _

Despite his initial animosity toward her, Merlin had harbored a hope since that day that her words were true.  He didn’t know why he’d felt so compelled to send notes and what amounted to worthless trinkets, when compared to a princess’ jewelry, to a woman he hardly knew.

He hadn’t expected her to have kept any of them, much less hang onto the hope that someone out there loved her.   And he did love her, more and more each time they met.

Arthur and Guinevere visited Nemeth on a few occasions throughout the years, and the royalty of Nemeth had also come to Camelot for feasts, tournaments, and treaties.  He had watched her, attended to her needs, and hoped she would see him.   Mithian would speak to him on a level that made him feel empowered by her respect.  She would laugh with him at odd jokes, and tease him about his attempts at flirtation.  

He often dreamed that she would find out that he had been sending her the missives and trinkets.  As time passed, his love for that dream had only grown, until he felt as if there were days it would completely consume him.  Still, she never seemed to see him for who he truly was. Then, he would be reminded of his place and how far away she was; if not in leagues, then in status.

When she came begging aide for herself and her father after Odin attacked Nemeth, Merlin’s heart had nearly fallen through his chest.  He’d envied the way Sir Leon had carried her to the guest chambers after she collapsed.

He berated himself for not seeing Morgana’s true form, but he had been so beside himself with worry for the Nemethian Princess that he hadn’t given her elderly maid a second glance.  Why had he stayed in the shadows and not looked her over properly himself?  He knew something was off about the situation.

Part of him wanted to blame Gaius for not noticing the magical burn mark on Mithian’s wrist when the physician had initially examined her.  If only they had seen it, they might have suspected something more than what Mithian had told them.  Giaus was getting old; he’d missed things -- assumed things -- until it had almost been too late. It wasn’t until the physician had examined Hilda that the old man began to believe Merlin’s bad feelings.  

Merlin’s heart had fluttered every time Mithian was near him, and yet, she didn’t seem to notice how his cheeks flushed or his hands trembled.  Mithian had treated him as she always had, as a friend.  Although, it appeared that only he could really see the fear in her eyes.  He had felt powerless to help.  His gut instinct was being blocked by both Gaius and Arthur, since he had no proof. At least until she had scrawled Morgana’s name on a stone and asked him to go to the river.  All of her trust had been placed in his hands.  Even then, he’d almost failed her.

When he’d awoken, his first thought should have been of Arthur’s safety, but instead it had been for Mithian.  Saving them all had never been in question.  He would have revealed himself if he’d had to, just to keep her safe.

After escaping the tomb, they had been surrounded.  He had tucked her behind himself and raised his arm, ready to do whatever it took.  The feeling of power -- the way she clung to him -- felt unlike anything he’d ever known.  She needed his protection, and his confidence soared. He thought that perhaps, after their experience, she’d see that he was the one who wanted her -- who had been trying to secretly gain her attention.

Unfortunately, it was not Mithian, but Arthur who had finally noticed.  

The King of Camelot was safely tucked into his bed in the guest quarters of Nemeth’s Castle after his words of warning.  The servant rolled his eyes recalling exactly how Arthur pointed out that Merlin was not a man who could rule a kingdom.

Making his way through the quiet halls of the castle, Merlin wasn’t even aware of the path his feet were taking.  He finally looked up to find himself lost in the maze that was the foreign keep.   Every servant corridor and alcove of Camelot was ingrained in his mind.  However, this wasn’t Camelot and he soon found himself bewildered.  Looking out a window, he could see the courtyard below and Arthur’s guest chamber almost directly across the way.

“I’ll never be able to find my way back there before morning,” he griped to himself.  Finally remembering that he was supposed to have gone to check on Arthur’s horse, he decided to try and find his way to the stables.  “Maybe I can at least do one thing right, since Arthur really thinks I’m a total idiot now.”

He looked up and down the hallway, trying to decide which way would be best.  The way he’d come from was empty and dark, while down the opposite end, he could see a pair of guards stationed near an ornate door.  Figuring that he must have somehow ended up in Royal Wing, he quickly spun around, determined to get as far away as possible before he was caught.   

A door opened behind him and he quickened his steps, only to be brought to a dead stop when he heard a voice call his name.   _ Her _ voice.

“Merlin?”

Panic set in and his eyes darted everywhere, looking for an escape.  How could he have been so stupid to find himself so close to her family’s private quarters? But, she already knew he was there.  Running would only cause her to ask questions.

He could hear her soft footfalls, as she moved quickly toward him.  Merlin took a breath and hoped he didn’t appear as haggard as he felt.

“My Lady,” he turned and gave a quick bow, refusing to make eye contact. Her feet were slippered in soft silk, as pale and creamy as the ankles above them.  Those delicate ankles that were attached to the long, slender legs that disappeared up under her nightgown.  He held his breath.

“What are you doing here?”

His mouth opened, but his voice refused to work.  Shaking his head, he shrugged nervously and tried again.  Clearing his throat, he finally managed to say something completely idiotic even to his own ears, though it was the absolute truth.  “Well, you see...I got lost.”

It started as a muffled snicker that soon became an outburst of giggles, and he couldn’t stop himself from looking up into her face.  The moonlight coursed through the windows and highlighted the delicate nose, the glorious apples of her cheeks, and the dark brows above her sparkling eyes. The beautiful mouth, from where the laughter emanated, was smiling.  He hadn’t seen her smile in years, and certainly not once on their recent journey.

A shaking gasp escaped him and he almost took a step toward her...almost.  

Quickly, his gaze dropped back to the floor.

She seemed to realize the awkwardness he felt and stifled her merriment. “Where were you heading?  Maybe I can help.”

“Uh...the stables, I think.” He rubbed the back of his neck, wishing that he was already in the stables or anywhere else for that matter.  Someplace far away from the temptation of such perfection in a flimsy, white nightdress, barely concealed by the fur robe she wore to stave off the chill of the night. “I need to check Arthur’s horse before I turn in, My Lady.”

She stepped closer and he smelled the light perfumed fragrance of her hair, recognizing the blend as one he had crafted himself for her. A light hint of rose mingled with sweet, fruity orange blossoms from an oil Merlin had paid nearly a month’s salary for.

“I think we are past formalities, Merlin,” she said, as she linked her arm through his. “Especially when we are not at Court and after the way you helped to save me and my father. I can show you to the stables, if you like.”

“My La...Mithian,” he stuttered, “that really isn’t necessary.”

“Oh, I believe it is.  You managed to find your way from the guest chambers to my family’s private quarters while searching for it. That is quite a feat, I assure you.  Please, I can’t sleep as it is and a walk will do me good, I think.”

“But then, who would you have to escort you back?”

She shrugged, the rise of her shoulder brushing against Merlin’s bicep. “Perhaps I’ll just wait for you to complete your duty, then walk back with you.  Someone needs to make sure you can reach Arthur’s chambers again.”

Her teasing comment brought a smile to his face, and he began to relax as they fell back into the pattern of friendship they had developed over the years. They walked along, speaking on lighter topics, not yet willing to talk about recent events.  Although, Merlin did lift her hand as they neared a brightly burning candelabra to examine her wrist.

Mithian tensed, but allowed him to look it over.

He finally smiled and nodded his head positively.  “It’s looking much better and shouldn’t even scar, once it’s fully healed.  You’ve been using the salve I...er, Gaius sent you.”

She gave him a knowing look. “ _ You _ have become a fine physician over the years.  I’m not sure what would have happened, if you hadn’t been there.”

“I’d always be there for you if I could, if only to see your smile light the darkest of days.”

Cocking her head to the side, she stared at him quizzically.  “Interesting.”

He stared back at her, wondering if she could feel how his pulse quickened when he remembered he’d sent her nearly that same phrase in a letter almost two years prior. “We should probably get to the stables before the sun comes out or Arthur will be certain the rest of my days will be spent in some dark dungeon, or something. He really is not a morning person,” Merlin explained far too quickly. “I remember one time he got so upset with me for not waking him up on time with his breakfast, I really thought my days were numbered.  The amount of things he was throwing around his room in a tantrum... Oy!  I spent nearly two days cleaning up from that mess and still had all my normal duties on top of it.”

“Did you now?” She asked in an absent voice, her thoughts turning inward as she half-heartedly listened to his rambling.

Merlin nodded emphatically.  He knew it wasn’t a fully thought out anecdote, but hoped it had been enough to distract her. As she continued leading him through the hallways and down a set of stairs, her silence told him that it hadn’t worked.  Very little was said as they walked on.

A passing Night Guard asked if the princess was alright, eyeing Merlin suspiciously.  Mithian responded to him by name and assured him that all was well.  She introduced Merlin as a member of King Arthur’s entourage and explained that he had become lost in the castle.

Ducking his head in embarrassment, Merlin confirmed her story.  He was glad to find out that the guard agreed the castle was quite daunting for anyone unfamiliar with the layout.  He offered to take Merlin and for a moment Merlin wondered if the princess on his arm would accept up the guard’s offer.  Although relieved when she declined, his apprehension grew as they continued in silence.  

“You seem to know the name of everyone who works in your kingdom.”

“Not everyone.  Only those in the castle whom I see everyday. While I doubt King Arthur knows the name of those who work under him, I’m sure Queen Guinevere is much more familiar with the staff.”

“Well, yes.  But, she used to be one of them.  It gives her a distinct advantage with the lowly people like myself,” he chuckled, trying to make light of his own station.

Mithian turned on him with a sad look in her eyes. “You really think so little of yourself?”

“No.  I mean, yes... sort of.  I’m reminded quite often how I am nothing more than a servant and a poor one at that.” He waited for her to contradict him, but his shoulders slumped when no words of encouragement came.

They passed through a door, where another guard put his hand on the hilt of his sword and looked to question the late night stroll.

“I’m fine, Bertrand. You can lower your sword.” She smiled sweetly at the man.  He nodded and held the door for them.

Out in the courtyard, other guards milled about, as well as a few servants running late night errands for their masters. A bright moon overhead left little need for the braziers and sconces around the well-lit, central yard, but the fires were still maintained for safety.

“Well, here we are.” She motioned to the stables.  

Merlin held open the door, wondering if she would turn and leave.  He hated the thought of her walking back alone, but wasn’t sure if he wanted her to accompany him any further.

She walked in casually and waited for him to follow. “I don’t think I’ve ever asked you this before; how did you become King Arthur’s servant?”

Laughing, Merlin moved toward Arthur’s horse as he gave her an abbreviated, magic free, version of the events of his and Arthur’s first meeting. He recounted of finding himself thrown into the dungeons, then into the stocks - where he subsequently met Gwen.  “I don’t know what came over me, but I saw her throw the dagger at Arthur.  It was dumb luck that I managed to pull him out of the way.  Uther ‘rewarded’ me a position in the Royal Household.  Some reward, eh?  At least it was paid work and more than someone like me could have ever hoped for."

“I disagree. You value yourself far too low.  You are a hero, Merlin.  More than just for that day with Arthur, and more than what you have done for me.”  She leaned against a post next the stall and watched him use a soft brush on the horse.  “There is so much more to you than meets the eye.  I knew that my first time in Camelot.”

He shrugged and put the brush away. “I should get you back inside. You need to rest after all that happened.”

Reaching out, she took his hand.  He froze at her touch.

“Tell me something, honestly, because I have a feeling you are rarely able to be honest with even yourself.  I see it in your eyes.  There is so much of you hidden away in the shadows.”

His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed against the fear within him at her words. “Uh, I’m honest.  As honest as anyone can be, I suppose.  What do you want to know?”

“Is it you, Merlin?”

“What’s that?”

“I didn’t even realize it until this evening when you talked about my smile.  The letters and gifts started coming shortly after my return from Camelot.  Not many people recall what I had said to Arthur that day on the steps. One of the notes said something very similar to your words tonight.  I ask again, is it you? Are you the one who has stolen my heart with your words and your kindness?  A man so few rarely see, but is always there to save the ones in need.”  She rubbed her thumb across the backs of his fingers.  “Merlin...”

“Yes,” he whispered, closing his eyes and forcing himself to answer her.  “But, I see now that it cannot be.  I am sorry if I have misled you, I just wanted to show you that you can be loved... That you are loved.”

“I love you. I would gladly give up everything to be with you.”

“No!  No, MIthian,” Merlin stuttered out, “You have so much.  You have your father and your kingdom.  I have nothing to offer you.  My life is not my own, as much as I wish it could be. I should not have written you, nor should I have sent you gifts.  It was a stupid mistake and I’m sorry.”

Crystal drops spilled from Mithian’s eyes and his heart tore itself into pieces.  Arthur was right, he was an idiot.  He’d never stopped to consider that the princess would latch onto the letters like a lifeline; holding on as if they were her only hope of finding love. Merlin was ready to stand and take the tongue lashing he was sure she would give him... or watch her run from the stables and lock herself away from him for the remainder of their stay.

“Kiss me.”

Everything screeched to a halt.  He’d been prepared for almost anything upon his insistence that there could never be anything between them, except that. “Wh-what?”

“After all you have put me through, you owe me at least one kiss before deciding for us both that this isn’t a love worth fighting for.”

He stared at her, unable to move, to respond, to think.  How many nights had he lain awake wondering if she felt anything for the anonymous man sending her words of love and hope?  How often had he dreamt that she would discover him each time they met? 

Now she had, and at a time when his future was even more uncertain with the prophecies of Arthur’s Bane hanging over his head.  Morgana was still out there, plotting her next move against Camelot and the king.  He couldn’t allow himself to get distracted.  He couldn’t let Mithian into his life, even if she was willing to give up everything just for love.  

One kiss.  That was all she had asked for.  Just one brief moment for a chance to prove that there was something to fight for.  He finally made up his mind, one simple kiss as she requested.  

If only she had put the pieces together before Morgana’s return, then he might have been willing to take a chance. He knew he should just walk away.  Tell her to go back to her finery and her soft bed, while he escaped to the pallet of straw on the floor in Arthur’s chambers that had been designated for him.  

Releasing a heavy sigh, he stood up and leaned forward, kissing her lightly on the cheek. It was a small peck and he immediately tried to sidestep around her, unwilling to witness the pain in her eyes -- or let her see his.  But, she caught his hand again and pulled him around to face her.

Mithian wrapped her free hand around the back of his neck and pulled his head down to meet her, determined to have her way. Their lips pressed together and Merlin panicked, but then the sensation of the rose petal softness against his mouth banished all logical thought from his mind. He found himself leaning into her. The feel of her lips, the smell of her perfume, her delicate hands touching him... His arms ached to wrap around her and pull her tightly against him, when she moaned quietly against his mouth.

He pulled away, leaving her gasping for breath.  For what seemed like an eternity, they looked at each other, waiting to see what the other one would do. Merlin’s mind told him to run, to get as far away from her as possible for her own safety.  His destiny; his loyalty to Arthur and to Camelot... Her eyes, wide with anticipation; their deep brown depths calling to him, begging him to love her. He hungered for her, he loved her, but he held himself back.

“Mithian...”

“Tell me, Merlin.  Tell me that you do not feel the same as I? Lie to me if you feel you must, but I know the truth.”

He tried.  He opened his mouth and tried to tell her that it was all a mistake, that he felt nothing from the kiss.  But, when the words came out, it was his heart that spoke. “I do love you.”

She flung her arms around his neck and pulled him into another kiss, this time deeper and longer.  He held her, never wanting it to end.  For one brief moment, he was happier than he had ever been. The woman he loved was giving herself to him, if he was willing to take her.  His hand slipped under her robe, sliding across the thin fabric of her nightgown underneath.  

He opened his mouth and implored her to do the same, as he backed her against the solid boards surrounding the stall. She gave in, their kiss deepening as his tongue sought entrance and played along her teeth.

Emboldened, she reciprocated and pressed firmly against him, giving as much as she was taking. Moaning softly in her pleasure.

Neither of them heard the door to the stables open.


	4. Predicaments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur discovers where his servant is.

The stone was hard and cold under his knees. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, trying to find a bit of relief from the sharp ache that had developed from kneeling for a prolonged period of time. The state of the floor made him unwilling to actually sit, but standing for hours wasn't the best option to his exhausted mind. The moon had set long ago and Merlin could sense the coming dawn through the high, narrow window of the cell. Time passed slowly, as Merlin waited to discover his fate.

He consoled himself with the memory of the kisses he had shared with the princess in the stable. Replaying the events in his mind, he knew he was stupid and should have been more aware of his surroundings. They hadn't heard the stable doors open, nor the guards coming in on their rounds. The warmth of her lips and body, the sounds of her pleasure as they finally began to reveal the truth about their feelings. Merlin knew he wouldn't have taken it beyond that deep, desperate kiss. Even as lost as he had been in the sensations, he was still painfully aware of who she was and wouldn't have taken more advantage of the situation.

However the guards, overzealous after having their princess and king returned to them from Morgana's clutches, didn't see it that way.

They had grabbed his arms and flung him back, tackling him to the ground. Mithian cried out at them to stop, but they wouldn't listen to her. She needed protection from Merlin and from herself, they explained. A servant should know better than to take advantage of a princess.

He was beaten, bruised, and shackled, before being dragged to the dungeon to await King Rodor's sentence. Rolling his shoulders, Merlin was unable to find any relief from the confining, weighty cuffs that held his wrists together. One day a hero, the next a criminal - it was just his luck. Destiny would always find a way to intervene in his happiest moments.

It just wasn't meant to be, but at least Mithian wasn't under a curse. Nor would she suffer anything more than a broken heart from his moment of weakness. It was himself he worried about, and more than that, his place at Arthur's side. Had they been in Camelot, Arthur would have ranted and raved about propriety. Hell, he might even throw Merlin in the stocks - something that hadn't been done for years.

This wasn't Camelot, though. They were in a foreign kingdom, that until recent years had been on the verge of war with Camelot. They may have saved Rodor and Mithian from Morgana, but how much would that count when faced with the idea that a servant dared to seduce a princess. If he wasn't so afraid of Morgana's determination to see Camelot fall, Merlin would gladly take whatever punishment Rodor desired to give him. His main thought, though, was that he needed to find a way out of this mess and return home.

* * *

"Sire. King Arthur is here, as you requested." The knight bowed before his king and awaited further instructions.

"Very good. You may wait outside." King Rodor sipped at his goblet and stared out of the window in his solar. He typically didn't receive visitors in his quarters, but due to the nature of the conversation he was about to have, he felt it best done in private. His daughter was being guarded in her own chambers, just down the hall. He had yet to question her concerning the previous night's events. In all honesty, he really didn't want to. She had been through so much in the past weeks and after the conversation at the feast, he wondered if he had somehow pushed her into acting outside herself.

Perhaps the feelings she had harboured for her secret admirer had somehow transferred to the young man who had recently saved her, he thought as Arthur entered the room.

"Please, Arthur, have a seat. We need to discuss something rather serious this morning."

"Thank you, Rodor." Arthur accepted the chair across from the local king. "I apologize for my tardiness. I think my servant had a bit too much of the ale last night at the feast and he was unable to attend me this morning."

"Actually, it is your servant that I need to discuss with you."

Blond eyebrows rose in surprise and Arthur nearly choked on the wine that had been offered to him. "You don't say?" His shock quickly turned to annoyance and he hoped that whatever Merlin had done would not have any serious ramifications. Setting his cup down, Arthur stifled a groan and the desire the roll his eyes in the presence of the other king.

His mind ran through various scenarios, including Merlin somehow dumping a pitcher of wine on some nobleman's prized cloak, or tripping and causing a mess of epic proportions in one of the stately halls. Maybe he'd tried to grasp some heirloom tapestry while flailing and ripped a hole clear through the prized wall hanging. "Pray tell, what did the idiot do now?"

The serious look on Rodor's face made Arthur worry that the problem was not going to be as clearcut as he had hoped.

"Some of my guards found him," he paused and took a deep breath, "and my daughter engaged in some rather improper activities in the stable last night."

The blood drained from Arthur's face. He hadn't intended for Merlin to go out and prove himself when he'd revealed his knowledge of the letters. Taking advantage of Mithian in her current state while still recovering from being Morgana's hostage was the last thing Arthur imagined his servant doing. "King Rodor, I must apologize. I lied to you last night when I said I did not recognize the handwriting in the letter your daughter showed me."

Rodor sat back and watched Arthur, waiting for him to continue.

"I explained to him that it couldn't continue, but I fear that my own marriage to the daughter of blacksmith has skewed his view of his proper station. Between that and the fact he's not used to drinking with the knights, as he did last night at the feast, he probably just wasn't thinking straight." The excuses sounded plausible and Arthur was surprised at his own reasoning. "May I ask how bad was this indiscretion?"

"I'm not completely certain, as I haven't spoken with either your servant or my daughter, but according to the guards, he was clearly taking advantage of the fact that she was in her nightgown."

Arthur raked his hands over his face. It seemed so far outside of Merlin's character to do such a thing. Hell, he'd been secretly courting Mithian through letters for nearly five years. If Arthur hadn't recognized the scrawl on the parchment, who knows how long it would have continued without Mithian even knowing who her suitor was. "May I speak with him, so I can try to find out more about what was going through his mind? I promise you, he will be punished for this."

"Hmm. Tell me a bit more about your manservant. He has certainly proven his loyalty. He acted very heroically in the situation with your sister and King Odin."

The younger king blinked in confusion. "Um, well... He is loyal. As for heroic, I'm not sure I'd ever call him that. Pigheaded, mouthy, idiotic at times."

"But, who is he? Where does he come from? What is his family like?"

Arthur was taken aback by the unusual questions. They didn't seem like the sort of thing an angry father with a disgraced daughter would ask. "He's from a village called Ealdor, just outside Camelot's border with Essetir. His mother still lives there. They are farmers."

"And his father?"

"None that he has ever known." It was the politest way Arthur could think of stating the fact that his servant was a bastard.

"I see. Well, he must have a good head on his shoulders, he is apprenticed to your physician."

"It is my understanding that Gaius is a distant uncle to Merlin's mother. He is Gaius' ward and dogsbody, to put it more accurately. Sadly, I don't think Merlin will ever become a true physician. When I have tried to suggest to Gaius that I could send Merlin away for proper training, as my father had done for him, I have been disappointed in his responses. Gaius has many excuses for why I should not send Merlin away, but I fear it might come down to his own lack of confidence in Merlin."

Arthur held up his hands and shrugged. "He is the best physician in the realms. If he doesn't think that Merlin is up to the task, then I have to trust his judgement on the matter. Also, Merlin can be easily distracted. It's possible that it is some weird mental affliction he has been suffering with all his life."

Rodor sighed in disappointment. "I am getting old, Arthur. The events of these past few weeks have proven how old I really am. Mithian needs a husband. She is my heir, but I don't think she'd be able to stand alone against the likes of Odin, if he breaks the treaty, or Morgana - if should it come to that."

He hoped that Rodor wasn't honestly considering Merlin to be a viable candidate. For all of Merlin's attributes, both good and idiotic, Arthur could not see his friend as a king. "I trust him with my life, but I wouldn't trust him with a kingdom. I'm sure between the two of us, we can find someone more suitable."


	5. Prison Propositions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur begins to think. Merlin doesn't like where it's going.

What was he supposed to do? Arthur wondered to himself as he followed one of Nemeth's knights down to the dungeon. He wished that Guinevere was with him to give him council. Surely, she would have some words of wisdom that would set him on the right track. There was something about Merlin that defied all logic, there always had been. Although, the first few months of getting used to each other's idiosyncrasies had been tough, the bond between them had grown strong and steady. He couldn't imagine a life without Merlin at his side, and he thought that his servant felt the same.

He wouldn't admit it out loud, but the mere idea of losing Merlin scared him.

He considered what he had told Rodor about Merlin's position as apprentice physician and began contemplating, as he had many times before, why Gaius was so against sending Merlin off for proper training. Merlin wasn't inept - far from it in fact. Despite serving double duty as manservant and apprentice, the younger man had learned both positions amazingly well. Perhaps, that had been the problem. No one else that Arthur knew of was trying to keep a king satisfied and train in something so daunting as medicine.

If he had allowed Merlin to focus on one or the other, maybe the results would have been different, and Merlin's flakiness would have subsided...maybe. Somehow Arthur knew that wasn't really the problem. There was always something else that seemed to occupy the servant's mind. Arthur chuckled softly. Maybe it was Mithian.

Arthur had been caught off guard by Rodor's questions. He knew he had become defensive and downplayed Merlin's abilities. His father would have been proud over the way he brushed off the idea that a servant could be more, but after leaving the older king, Arthur felt a tightness settle in his chest.

The dungeons were cold and bleak, a far cry from the shining, white prestige of the Great Hall and the rest of the splendid castle. Yet, it seemed all too familiar to be wandering through the darkened corridors, listening to the moans of prisoners. Many of who had aided Morgana's recent siege.

They finally reached a grate separating a cell from the hall, and beyond it he could see Merlin sitting on his knees in a bed of moldy straw. He took a breath to steady himself, not knowing exactly what he was going to say.

Merlin's eyes rose to meet his; there was a sadness in them Arthur hadn't seen for years. For a few moments they simply stared at one another, waiting as the knight opened the gate to the cell. The man bowed and motioned to the end of the passageway where he would wait for Arthur to be finished. Once out of earshot, Arthur moved into the cell and crouched near his servant.

"What did you do?" He asked in exasperation, wanting to hear the story from the horse's mouth.

"Something stupid, obviously."

Arthur had to laugh out loud. "That is an understatement. How bad is it? The guards seem to think you were completely taking advantage of her."

Snorting, Merlin shook his head. "We were kissing. That's all. And she kissed me first, I'll have you know. Well, sort of. She asked me to kiss her. So, I kissed her cheek and tried to leave. That was when she grabbed me and... After that, I just gave in. I swear to you, I would not have taken it any further. It was just... nice, ya know? To..."

"To what?"

"To know that she loves me. To feel that there is someone, besides my mother, who appreciates me. She figured out I was the one who had been sending her the gifts. I tried to tell her that despite all of it, we couldn't..." Merlin's chest heaved as if the pain in his heart was a true weight instead of one brought on by emotional turmoil. "You're right. I am nothing but a servant. I will never be anything more than that."

Arthur felt his own heart breaking at the despair in Merlin's voice. "You're more than just a servant," he said before he could stop himself. "When we get back home, I want you to pack your things."

Merlin's head shot up, his eyes widened in fear.

"Don't worry. You're not being sacked. Well, you sort of are, but not for the reasons you think." The king hadn't even fully realized what he'd been considering until that moment. But, the idea that had formed on his walk down to see Merlin just felt right and he had a feeling his wife would have approved. If Merlin was given a chance to excel, without the added burden of cleaning up after Arthur on a daily basis, what would he accomplish?

"You have been a loyal servant and you deserve to be rewarded for everything you have done. I plan on sending you to Rome, or Greece, where you can learn to be a real physician. Once you return, then we can discuss other things, like how to properly court a woman."

"Arthur, I can't."

"Of course, you can. You deserve it." Arthur smiled, assuming Merlin was just being too humble to accept. "I know Gaius has his doubts, but..."

"Gaius doesn't have any doubts. He knows I could do it and possibly surpass his own skill. I can't leave you, though." Merlin licked his chapped lips nervously. "What about Morgana? I mean, who's going to polish your armor and sharpen your sword so that you can face her? What kind of mood would you be in if you had to go into battle with dirty socks?"

Arthur stood up and stared at Merlin quizzically. "You mean to tell me that you would rather do my laundry than learn how to be a physician? That all of Gaius' excuses for why you shouldn't go have been because you don't want to leave?" He paused, completely confounded by Merlin's reluctance. "You are an odd one, Merlin. We'll discuss this further when we return to Camelot. Right now, I just need to try and get you out of this mess."

He shook his head and turned toward the gate, leaving the cell more confused than he was when he'd entered. Nodding at the knight who stood waiting, Arthur made his way up the dingy staircase alone.

"Arthur! Is it true?"

The king grimaced. The last person he wanted to deal with was Gwaine.

The roguish knight came upon him from a side passage, just as he was exiting the dungeons. Arthur knew how close Gwaine and Merlin were, and how protective the knight could be over the younger man at times. He hoped that Gwaine hadn't made a scene when he'd learned of Merlin's current predicament. Dealing with a servant who had been caught kissing a princess was bad enough. To have one of his knights throw a tantrum about it would only make things worse.

"I'm taking care of it, Gwaine. There is no need to concern yourself."

"So, it is true? He saves her and she goes to give him a reward, only to then have him punished for it? Ungrateful-"

"There's more to it than that," Arthur interrupted. The letters and gifts were a concern, but no more than Merlin's own words about not being able to leave him. Yes, they were friends, even if proprietary kept it from being acknowledged publicly. He loved Merlin like an annoying little brother, but like a brother, he wanted what was best for him. While at the same time he didn't want to let Merlin out of his sight for fear of whatever trouble the servant would get in.

Merlin had admitted that he was the force behind Gaius' resistance to becoming something more. There were others who could do Arthur's laundry. He had squires who could sharpen his sword. Why then, was Merlin so reluctant to give it up?

Arthur barely heard Gwaine rambling on, bemoaning about of his friend's imprisonment. He held up his hand and waited for the knight to be silent. "I need some time to think and to speak with Gaius. King Rodor wants to question Merlin soon; to decide what is to be done. He admitted that had the issue been brought to him first, he wouldn't have sent Merlin to the dungeon. But, his kingdom has had enough upset in recent weeks that he decided to let the matter be for the moment. A few hours in a cell won't hurt Merlin. He knows what he did."

"He kissed a girl. Who cares if she's a princess? Nobility is all the same. They'll give you a gift one minute, then order you to wipe their asses the next."

The king's eyes narrowed in warning. He knew Gwaine didn't care for those of privilege, but he hadn't heard the knight speak with so much venom since Uther had banished him. "Tread lightly, Gwaine. I know you consider Merlin your friend, but there are other issues at stake. We'll all be on our way home shortly. Just try to keep your head down and not cause any trouble."

Gwaine flipped his hair out of his face with a pout. "I'm going to go talk to him, at least." He gave an exaggerated bow and asked snarkily, "If I can have your permission."

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. It was going to be a long day and a headache had already formed between his brows. He waved his hand toward the dungeons and watched Gwaine stride off.

* * *

Merlin gazed at his shackled wrists. He was bound by more than the iron. How many times had he wanted to take Arthur up on the offer of proper education? How many opportunities had he missed in life because of his destiny? Freya, Will, Lancelot... they all paid the price for his secret. Now, even Mithian and possibly Gaius might suffer for it. It was stupid of him to think he could have at least one moment of happiness; one chance to do something for himself.

"You know, if you needed a woman, I could have found someone for you with a lot less hassle."

Merlin smiled at the sound of his friend's voice through the grated door, breaking him from his internalization. "You know me, anything I can do to make Arthur's life miserable."

Despite his predicament, he was glad to know that some things would never change. Gwaine making light of any situation was one of them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to take a quick moment to thank everyone who is reading this and smother you all with fluffy bunny loves for the reviews and comments! Seriously, reviews are better than chocolate... well, unless it's real chocolate from Ecuador (YUM!) I hope everyone is enjoying the new season (Spring or Fall) and that you all have a Hoppy Easter!


	6. Forgotten Sons

She loved him. She would give up the entire kingdom just to be with him, even if it meant being the wife of a servant. Rodor fell into his throne and contemplated his daughter's proclamation.

He'd had five sons at one point and even a foster son he would have gladly named as an heir. But, that was before the Purge. Two had been lost to illness - one of which had been barely old enough to hold a sword. Another two had died in battle against the forces of Camelot during the Great Purge over the disputed lands of Gedref. He sipped his wine, wondering what would have happened if he hadn't backed down against the might of Uther Pendragon, or rallied his forces and gone after Camelot in revenge for his sons.

His last son had been lost for years. The young man had taken a group of soldiers on an expedition across the sea and had never been seen, nor heard from again. The ship, it was assumed, had been lost in a storm. Then, there had been his fosterling, the only son of the Lord of Gedref. He, too, had been lost during the Purge. Though, Rodor had never learned of the young man's true fate. It was rumored that he was still alive. Possibly somewhere in Essetir, after having gone into hiding from Uther's forces.

Rodor drank a silent toast to the memory of his lost sons, and thought once again about his daughter. She had been born late in his life - a gift from the gods and his third wife. She was as stunning as her mother had been. He felt a pang of sorrow for the loss of such a beautiful woman. Mithian couldn't have been more than six when her mother was taken by an infection of the bones, according to Rodor's own physician.

After so many losses, Rodor never even thought to marry again, much less father any more children. His princess had become his life and he groomed her to take over his crown someday, never thinking that she would want something else.

He had been shocked when Lord Agravaine had first approached him years before with the proposal of an alliance. Uther had died, and it appeared his son did not share his father's views of magic and genocide. He was grateful for the proposal of peace through marriage, but he worried about sending his last child to Camelot. It had been Mithian who had convinced him to send her.

At that time, the future of their kingdom was of the utmost importance to her. He never imagined that she'd return with an agreement gifting Nemeth the Land of Gedref simply because King Arthur felt guilty for denying her the marriage they had worked so hard for.

Gedref was an enchanted piece of land, to be sure. Uther had tried to take it to burn it to the ground, but the magic surrounding it had resisted for the most part.

Nemeth had been a small kingdom even then. Situated on the edge of the edge of the sea, it had been made even smaller by Uther's obsession to destroy everything magical, and also the encroachment of Odin's kingdom from the southern border. A match between Arthur and Mithian would have alleviated the need to try and fight for their survival against two powerful forces. While Nemeth would have been absorbed by Camelot, it was a much better scenario than the alternative.

Rodor focused on his thoughts of Gedref and the foster son he had lost, wondering why his mind would turn to them after so many years. He then realized that there was something about Arthur's manservant that had seemed vaguely familiar to him. He was tall and lanky with dark hair, very similar in build and stance as his ward had been. Although Merlin's eyes were a bright, intelligent blue instead of the deep, secretive brown of the man Rodor had known.

Hadn't Arthur said that Merlin was from Ealdor, a village in Essetir? ...The same kingdom where his foster son had run to?

It was close to the end of the Great Purge when Rodor had received a final message from the young man stating that the treaty, which Uther had proposed, had failed. They had been betrayed by the King of Camelot and he refused to come home until he found a way to make it right. He wouldn't put his family or Rodor's in anymore danger.

Moving to a chest near the bed, Rodor pulled out the last letter he'd received and studied it while considering the love letters given to his daughter. He wondered, could it be possible?

* * *

Arthur was fuming. Gaius had been as evasive as ever and made excuses to be elsewhere. Answering his king's questions certainly wasn't his priority. If Arthur had been his father, he might have threatened Gaius with the dungeons or at the very least, given him a severe reprimand. If they had been in Camelot, he would have forced the issue. Muttering curses, Arthur made a promise to himself to get answers when they did return to Camelot.

For the time being, however, they were still in an allied kingdom and in an effort to keep the peace, he bit his tongue. Leon had found him before he had lost his temper and the older knight's quiet demeanor helped Arthur to rein himself in.

He walked alongside Leon, while Gaius trailed behind them towards the Great Hall. Rodor had finally made a decision regarding Merlin's fate and Arthur was hopeful that Merlin's previous heroics had earned his servant some leniency, if only to return home and face the consequences Arthur had in store for him.

Merlin was already standing in front of the throne where King Rodor was seated, when they entered. Mithian stood at her father's side, her eyes downcast with a mangled handkerchief in her wringing hands. Unlike Uther's, or even Arthur's gatherings, the room was empty of councilmen, knights and lords. Only those with a personal stake had been allowed to attend the proceedings.

Rodor nodded toward a nearby chair, just below the dais, for Arthur to sit. Arthur smiled pleasantly, though reservedly, as he did so. His eyes wandered to Merlin, who stood quietly for once.

"I have spoken with my daughter and the guards who caught you last night." Rodor began without formality. "While I am disappointed in you both, I am relieved to understand that they might have overreacted a bit. However, I find myself in a bit of a dilemma. Mithian has expressed her desire to give up her heritage to be with you. This is something I cannot - will not - allow. She is my only remaining child. She is all that I have; all our kingdom has. If you were the son of a lord, however minor that title might be, I would consider offering you her hand."

Merlin began shaking his head fiercely. "Majesty, I don't... I can't offer her anything. It was wrong of me to..."

Holding up his hand, Rodor's unspoken command silenced the young servant. The king paused for a moment, as if considering his next words.

Arthur didn't like the silence. It felt off to him, as if there was something more going on beneath the surface. He wondered if this same tension was similar to what Merlin felt when he got one of his bad feelings.

"Your king has expressed that his own marriage may have influenced your actions, hoping that somehow my daughter would be able to raise you to a level more befitting her station in order to marry. But, I have come to believe that might be unnecessary. He has also told me of where you come from."

All eyes watched the King of Nemeth, unsure of where the old man's thoughts seemed to be heading. Arthur's attention shifted between Rodor and Merlin, the latter seemed just as confused as everyone else. The king had mentioned the possibility of marriage, if Merlin would have been born of nobility. But, Merlin was a bastard son of a peasant, where he came from didn't matter.

Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur noticed Gaius practically squirming as he tried to catch Merlin's attention. What was the matter with them all? Rodor was speaking as if he knew more about Merlin than Arthur himself did, and Gaius...what did Gaius know? Why was the physician suddenly so nervous?

Leon appeared to notice the oddities in the conversation as well and offered Arthur a small, silent shrug.

He couldn't take it anymore. "King Rodor. While I greatly appreciate your hospitality as gratitude for coming to your aid, I believe it is time my men and I returned to Camelot. If, as you say, the actual transgression was less than you initially feared, I will gladly make certain Merlin is given lessons on propriety when we return home."

The old king smirked. "I believe that he may need other lessons, actually." Before Arthur could question him, Rodor turned back to Merlin and continued, "You were born in Essetir, correct?"

"Yes, Sire," Merlin answered with a quizzical look on his face.

"In a village, just outside of Camelot's borders?"

The servant nodded slowly. His eyes darted to Gaius, obviously trying to gauge if his mentor understood what was going on. When Arthur noticed the physician was giving a slight shake of his head, as if warning his ward to stay quiet, he realized that Gaius definitely had more of a clue of what was happening than anyone else in the room. Why then, was he trying to keep Merlin from telling the truth? It wasn't as if Merlin had anything to hide.

"Do you know your father's name?"

"No...no, Sire," Merlin shook his head and stuttered. He had answered too quickly by Arthur's reasoning. The servant stared at the floor, shifting his weight anxiously.

"Are you sure you don't know his name? It wasn't Balinor by any chance?"

Merlin's head popped up suddenly and his whole body went still. Wide, blue eyes stared at the King of Nemeth. In their depths, Arthur saw a myriad of thoughts racing by. He'd never had the chance to watch his servant from this perspective. Under Uther's reign, when Merlin would get into trouble, Arthur was usually trying to scramble to pick up the pieces. Since becoming king himself, he'd been preoccupied with the affairs of his kingdom, that he rarely took notice of Merlin's state.

Off to his side, he noticed Gaius turn away as if trying to keep some emotion hidden.

The name swam around Arthur's head. He'd heard it before, he was sure, but couldn't place where or when. Leon leaned down and whispered in his ear, "The Dragon Lord, Sire."

Like a lock fitted with the perfect key, the pieces began to fall into place, and his mind started to open. He recalled when he and Merlin had found the Dragon Lord deep in Cenred's territory. Although initially adamant about not helping Uther or Camelot, he remembered the man having had a sudden change of heart. For a time, Arthur had told himself that Balinor had simply just come around. Yet, an unmistakable bond had been formed between Merlin and the man in those few days.

When Balinor had been killed, Merlin had cried in a manner that Arthur had never seen. He'd given the only consolation he knew, and suspected it was Merlin's worry for everyone at home that had created the emotional outburst. However, if what Rodor had said was true, that meant that the Dragon Lord was Merlin's father.

Anger began to bubble up inside of him, wondering why Merlin never told him about this. It was obvious by his reaction that he knew! Gaius knew it as well. He felt a deep pang of betrayal. Two of the men he trusted most, outside of his knights, had lied to him. His fists clenched in fury; eyes narrowing at his servant. It didn't matter where Rodor was going with his line of questioning, Arthur had more answers already than he wanted.

If only they were back home, then Arthur would let loose on a tirade that would have made his father proud. "King Rodor. As it seems you do not have any intention of punishing Merlin, I feel it would be best if we returned Camelot."

The elder king seemed surprised by the tightness in Arthur's voice. It was as if he finally recognized that he had brought up an issue that should have been handled with much more finesse. Instead of backing down, though, Rodor sat straighter in his throne, ready to challenge Arthur. "Do you plan to punish him simply for his parentage when you reach Camelot? It's what your father would have done. It is what he did, many times over. If Merlin is Balinor's son, then I will grant him asylum here in Nemeth from the consequences he would face in Camelot."

"Why is it so important to you who his father is?"

"Many years ago, the last Lord of Gedref, Myrrdin Emrys, sent his only son to me for fosterage. I raised Balinor as one of my own sons, treated him as my own, and was willing to name him my heir after all my sons had died. He was tricked by your father into traveling to Camelot with the Great Dragon, in hopes that they could find a peaceful end to the genocide your father had brought upon the lands. As his son, bastard born or not, Merlin might be the last remaining heir to Gedref. For his father's memory I will see his birthright restored."

Arthur reeled back, wholly unprepared for the determination in Rodor's countenance.


	7. Family Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin is asked to explain a few things, and things just get more complicated from there.

"Wha... what?" Merlin's voice was soft and it trembled with the effort to speak. Had he just heard right? Had Balinor been a noble lord, not just a Dragon Lord? The lands of Gedref, between Camelot and Nemeth, were where Anohora resided and guarded over the unicorns and the labyrinth that led out to the sea. He'd watched as Arthur had drank the poison along the shoreline in order to prove his worthiness after killing a unicorn. Even parts of the Valley of the Fallen Kings had been marked on some older maps as part of the lands.

His mind reeled and began to wander. Just outside of Gedref was the Isle of the Blessed. Perhaps it had been part of Gedref at some point. It was a question he'd have to ask Gaius about at a later time, if he ever managed to get out of this mess. He also began to wonder if Kilgharrah had known about all of this.

So much of Merlin's family history was like pages torn out of a book, everyone having been allowed to read it but him. For the first time, someone on the outside seemed willing to help fill in the blanks.

"Judging by your reaction, I would say you at least knew his name and that my assumption was spot on." Rodor chuckled at Merlin's floundering, and ignored Arthur's protests for the time being. "Tell me what you know about your father."

Merlin's eyes darted nervously about the hall. Mithian had a hopeful look on her face; a small hint of a smile at the prospect that the man she loved might not be just a common servant. Arthur glowered, his gaze shifting between Gaius, Rodor, and Merlin. The younger king was completely out of his element and trying to keep peace, while battling inner demons that Merlin could only begin to imagine. Gaius stared at his ward. The warning in his raised eyebrow was a red flag telling Merlin to keep his head down and mouth shut.

Leon gave a hint of a nod. It seemed the knight had figured things out and was willing to accept the outcome. The revelation of Merlin's parentage didn't seem to come as a shock. Instead, it appeared to serve as confirmation to something Leon had already been considering. Though how he had a clue about anything in Merlin's past was a mystery to the servant.

Only Rodor's guards stood impassively at the sides of the Great Hall, unfazed by the discussion happening in the center and the sudden maelstrom that had become Merlin's life. He felt miniscule and insignificant standing in the middle of such a gigantic room that seemed so empty. His chest heaved, trying to draw breath, and the pressure from such a vacant space felt like it was pushing down on him. He was drowning in anxiety.

For a moment he thought about magicking the shackles to release him and trying to make a run for it. He didn't have a clue how far he would get, but it seemed a safer option than standing there with all eyes on him.

"Merlin, King Rodor is waiting for your answer." Arthur's gaze burned into him.

Perhaps it was time to clear the air to let some, if not all, his secrets come into the light. Rodor was offering him sanctuary and possibly a chance to learn more about the man his father had been. A man so far removed from the angry, old hermit that he and Arthur had met. It was so hard to keep secrets, but the opportunity to finally admit any of it out loud left him severely distressed.

The old king's smile faded. He appeared saddened from not being given an answer right away. Merlin couldn't blame him. He decided that he at least needed to give the king a sense of closure. "He died a hero, saving me from a spear."

Rodor's eyes were filled with tears, as he gave Merlin a nod of appreciation.

"Thank you," Mithian mouthed. She graced Merlin with a smile that was filled with love. It emboldened him and made him want to say more, despite the shock in Arthur's face and the disappointment in Gaius'.

"I don't know much about him beyond his name, which I only learned a few years ago." He stared at his feet and took a breath, while trying to decide how to tell the story. "The Great Dragon had been kept below Camelot and when he was freed he wanted to take his revenge against King Uther. It was during that time that Gaius admitted there was one Dragon Lord left. Arthur and I were sent out to find him. I was told of my relation the night before we left. When we found Balinor, Arthur had been injured, but my father was able to heal him.

"After that, we explained who we were to Balinor, but he refused to help. I was able to speak with him and I told him who I was. He didn't know he had a son."

"So, that was why he agreed to come? Not because people were dying, but because you asked him to?" Arthur's face had taken on a look of interest and curiosity.

Merlin nodded. He wasn't sure what was going on in his king's mind. But, as long as he wasn't being berated for telling the story, and for not having told Arthur initially, he counted that as a good thing.

"We were attacked by some of Cenred's men for being across the border. One of them came at me, but my father got in the way."

"Why didn't you ever tell me, Merlin?" To those who didn't know Arthur, it sounded like a simple question. For Merlin, however, he could hear the heartbreak in his friend's voice. Arthur was feeling betrayed, more than sympathetic that Merlin had never confided in him about it.

"If I would have told you, you would have been obligated to tell your father. He would have had me killed the moment he found out."

Arthur scoffed and folded his arms defensively across his chest. "He wouldn't have-"

"Yes, Arthur. He would have. Ask Gaius or Leon, they both knew him for what he was. It wouldn't have mattered how many times I had saved your life. I'd be dead simply for being related to someone like a Dragon Lord!"

The young king rolled his eyes and turned to Leon, expecting his knight to support him. Merlin saw the confusion and doubt fall across Arthur's face at what he did see. Leon was staring at the floor, ashamed to confirm out loud that what Merlin had said was true. Gaius stood straighter, his chin raised and face neutral.

"Gaius?" Arthur asked, dreading to hear the truth. He cringed when the physician gave a slight nod.

"Sire, that is why Merlin was never told until he needed to know. It was for his own safety and for yours."

Merlin's chest tightened as he watched Arthur, waiting for his friend to say something. Tears stung his eyes when Arthur refused to meet his gaze.

"King Rodor," Arthur said formally. "If all this is true, then from what you are saying, Merlin is not the low-born peasant we all suspected."

"No. It would appear as if my assumptions are correct. He is the heir to the lands of Gedref and is someone worthy of my daughter."

Blinking rapidly, Merlin tried to catch up to the conversation, curious and fearful about where it was heading. He wanted to jump for joy at the prospect of being able to court Mithian, but he still couldn't imagine leaving Arthur's side. Then he wondered if, as a noble, he could still stay with Arthur, but perhaps have a bit more influence on his king, as many of the knights did. Would Arthur be willing to take him seriously, or, would he still be thought of as an idiot?

"There is one thing we must do before I can move forward with naming him as Balinor's son."

"What is that?" Arthur implored.

"We will need proof of his heritage." Rodor turned back to address Merlin. He sat for a moment in silent contemplation while the young man squirmed under the king's gaze. He appeared to hesitate in his response after Arthur's earlier reaction. "Tell me...do you have your father's gifts?

"My father's gifts?" Merlin choked out. The ability to call dragons. The magic to move objects since his birth. He wanted to say yes; was nearly dying to be acknowledged for his abilities and to explain everything to Arthur about what he had done during his years in Camelot. Arthur would always say he didn't get nervous, or that he wasn't scared. But, Merlin sensed the fear in the way his king sat motionless, staring at Rodor with the question written on his face, asking 'What gifts?'

"Father," Mithian broached cautiously, "Could you at least have the guards uncuff him? It seems unnecessary that now we have established his parentage that he should still be questioned as a prisoner, rather than the son of someone you cared about. Also, Merlin has had a rough night and is probably exhausted from being in the dungeons."

Rodor nodded heartily, giving a small chuckle. "Of course. I am being a bad host. Balinor would have been the first to point that out, even before my own sons. He always had such a good heart." He motioned for one of the guards to remove the shackles. "Perhaps we should all have something to eat and a bit of rest. I'm sure you want to clean up after last night before we continue speaking."

Merlin rubbed his wrists and had to grin. He'd been in the dungeons of Camelot on more than a few occasions. No one had ever offered him the opportunity to clean himself up afterward. With Arthur it had always been back to work first, then he might be granted some time to make himself presentable. "Thank you, King Rodor."

Mithian assisted her father from his throne, but turned back into the hall as they reached the door. Merlin watched her anxiously as she came up to him. "You are welcome to join my father and I for lunch, if you would like." Her request was filled with hope and longing.

He considered taking her up on the offer, but he felt Arthur's eyes boring into him. He owed it to his friend to be straight with him. Arthur deserved to know the truth after all that they had been through together. He'd always wondered how his king would react and had always feared the worst. For the first time, Merlin realized he was in a place where he could actually tell Arthur everything and not worry about the ramifications. They were in Nemeth, not Camelot, and Rodor had already offered Merlin sanctuary. The worst thing Arthur could do here was to leave him. Alright, so he could kill Merlin outright, but then he'd be facing off with Rodor and Nemeth's guards. Not to mention what Princess Mithian might do if the man she loved was run through by a visiting king.

He almost laughed aloud at the image that presented itself, but managed to keep himself in check as he took Mithian's hands and smiled down at her. The warmth of the action sped through him. He'd never been able to express his true feelings to anyone in public. "Not today. I need to speak to my friends about all this. They didn't know who my father was."

"I understand." Her soft brown eyes watched him carefully, wanting to make sure he would be alright. They silently begged him to be careful. She knew as well as he did, that the laws of Camelot could be unfair. Although he had never told her about his magic, he guessed that she knew more about Balinor and the gifts Rodor referred to than she was saying.


	8. Truth and Consequence

The moment the door closed, Merlin started fluttering about the room, muttering complaints about the state it was in.  “I leave you alone for one morning, and look at this mess!”

**  
**

“Merlin,” Arthur said softly, leaning against the door.  He felt dizzy and lightheaded; his throat was dry and his stomach was twisting itself into knots.  From the moment King Rodor had mentioned Balinor’s name, Arthur knew that everything was going to change.  Like a box of carefully sorted jewels that had been shaken, his reality had been turned upside down, and was now dumped out into a heap on the floor, in much the same state as the laundry Merlin was currently fretting over.

**  
**

The information that had come out in the Throne Room completely blew his mind.  Yet, at the same time, it made more sense than anything Arthur had ever known.

**  
**

“Merlin,” he called slightly louder, but still softer than the continuous rambling of his servant.  Arthur had realized long ago that Merlin’s ability to carry on a one-sided conversation was a nervous quirk.  It distracted, very successfully much of the time, from the realities that surrounded them.  For the most part, Arthur actually enjoyed the constant stream of chatter, if only because it helped alleviate his own insecurities.

**  
**

Now, however, was not the time to allow himself the luxury of listening to the continued prattle, not when his turmoil came from the very man who was currently folding his laundry.  Could Merlin really have some of ‘Balinor’s gifts’, as Rodor had called them?  

**  
**

He contemplated what he knew of the man who had been Rodor’s foster son.  Very little, if truth be told. Arthur never wanted to know any more about him.  Balinor was just a name, a magic user who had somehow escaped death during the Purge.  It was only by luck that Gaius had supposedly overheard that the Dragon Lord still lived.  

**  
**

Ha! Arthur thought, Gaius was probably the one who helped Balinor escape in the first place.  It wouldn’t be the first time, nor he felt the last, when he would suspect Gaius of bending the laws to his own ends.

**  
**

For decades Gaius had known that the Dragon Lord wasn’t just alive, but had a son.  If Uther had known he would have stopped at nothing to hunt the man down.

**  
**

And there it was.  

**  
**

The reason Merlin had given him -- staring him right in the face.  If Uther had known, they would have been dead: Balinor, Merlin, Gaius, possibly even Merlin’s mother, Hunith.  Well, maybe not Gaius.  Somehow, the physician had always managed to find a way back into his father’s good graces.

**  
**

It made him wonder what else Gaius knew.  How many secrets did the old man hide beneath his robes?

**  
**

Merlin continued to carry on, until the point Arthur truly had enough.  “Merlin!”

**  
**

“Yes, Sire?”  The servant looked up, momentary confusion filtering through his eyes, before he realized that Arthur was done playing games.

**  
**

“Balinor was your father?”  It had already been established in Rodor’s Throne Room, but he needed to hear it for himself -- directly from the source.

**  
**

The shirt in Merlin’s hands hung limply and it suddenly seemed out of place.  Merlin was the son of a lord, not just a Dragon Lord.  He shouldn’t be tending to Arthur’s needs, picking up after someone else.

**  
**

“Yes,” came the soft reply.

 

There were so many things Arthur wanted to say, so many questions to ask. He remembered telling Merlin that no man was worth his tears while the young servant held the cooling body of the man.

 

They had ridden back to Camelot after that and faced the dragon together.  Even though Arthur had been knocked unconscious during the fight, Merlin had assured him that he had dealt a mortal blow to the great beast.  Did he though?  Or, was it just another of many lies -- half-truths wrapped in unspoken words -- buried beneath the rambling exterior of a man Arthur wasn’t sure he knew anymore.

 

His hand ached to grip the hilt of his sword, a blade that he had magically pulled from a stone at Merlin’s bidding...

 

The reality of it all came crashing down around his ears, as loud as the tomb when it had begun to shake; rubble falling from the ceiling as they made their escape from Odin and Morgana.

 

His legs began to grow weak as scenes from the past flashed through his mind. Finding a chair, he sank into it as the weight of the memories dragged him down. “Rodor mentioned Balinor’s gifts.  What did he mean, Merlin?”

 

Arthur didn’t know if he actually wanted to hear what his lanky servant had to say, but they were beyond the point of telling more lies...more stories to cloud the truth.  He only hoped that Merlin felt the same.

 

“I’m not sure if you’re ready to know yet, Sire.”

 

“Damnit, Merlin!”  Arthur sprang forward and pounded his fist on the arm of the chair.  He was sick of the games.  He sat back in shock as he realized Merlin hadn’t even flinched at the outburst, almost as if the servant had been expecting it.

**  
**

From out of nowhere, Merlin suddenly erupted.  “I have magic!”  He immediately clapped his hands over his mouth.

**  
**

Arthur stared, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. His mind tried to wrap around that one sentence, and now that it was out in the open, he found he just couldn’t comprehend the idea of Merlin having magic.  

**  
**

“When were you going to tell me?”

 

* * *

 

The calm tone of the question hid the turmoil Merlin could see brewing behind Arthur's blue eyes. Tell him what?  That his father had been a Dragon Lord or that he was as well?  Perhaps, he should just blurt out all the secrets he held deep within him?  He wanted nothing more than to be back in the shadows again, hiding his truths.  Merlin had decided to go for the biggest of them all and was stunned at Arthur's response.  He sank into the closest chair he could find, his voice quiet as he stared off toward the window. “It’s not something that ever mattered.”

**  
**

Arthur gaped at his servant. “Of course, it mattered!  You lied to me, Merlin.”

**  
**

“I didn’t lie.”

**  
**

“You could have told me.”

**  
**

Merlin turned back and  studied the tension around his king’s eyes and wished that those words were true.  “I did once.  You claimed I was madly in love with Gwen.  After that, I never pushed the issue.”

 

The king squinted in confusion, trying to remember the incident.  

**  
**

“Your father had Gwen imprisoned when a poultice was found in her home after her father was healed, because he thought she was the witch.  I was the one who healed him.  I broke into the Council Room and told everyone I had magic.”

**  
**

“That was just you trying to save Guinevere.  It doesn’t count.  You could have told me after that.”

**  
**

“Doesn’t count?”  He knew Arthur was clueless at times.  Even after summoning his father’s spirit from the dead with the horn, Merlin wondered how his friend could be so blind to the realities of who Uther really was.  His voice was low, as he tried to keep a handle on the growing emotions inside.  “My first day in Camelot, I saw a man beheaded for magic.  Later, I found out it was magic used to heal his child.  Anyone Uther even suspected of having an association to magic was killed.  If you had told him, I would have been the next one up on that block -- just for being related to Balinor.  I had never met Balinor before, nor did I even know my father’s name before we went out to find him.”

**  
**

Rage began to burn through Arthur.  His fists clenched tightly on the arms of the chair.  "Maybe I wouldn't have told him.  Did that ever cross your mind?"

**  
**

"I wasn't willing to take that chance, nor put you in that position."

**  
**

"And since then?  My father has been dead for years, Merlin."

**  
**

"Magic is still illegal."

**  
**

"Because of you." It was a cold statement.  Ice filled Arthur's eyes even as he said it.

**  
**

Merlin gasped at the accusation, unable to wrap his mind around a response.

**  
**

"You have stood by and allowed me to use magic to summon my father, while in the next breath telling me many times how evil magic is."    Arthur stood up and crossed the room, coming to stand in front of the cold hearth.  "Are you a Dragon Lord, as well?"

**  
**

Merlin’s hands hung limp between his knees and his head was bowed, not wanting to look at his king.   It didn't matter what he said now.  He could feel the friend that had been his master pulling further away from him with each passing moment.   He had no more excuses.  He couldn't even begin to imagine how to describe all that he had done over the years...how it was all to protect Arthur.  

**  
**

He nodded reluctantly and waited.  When there was no immediate response, Merlin glanced up.   Arthur's back was to him, waiting for a verbal answer.  "After Balinor was killed..."

**  
**

"No more!"  The blond man spun around, his hand cutting through the air to punctuate his words.  "Are you a Dragon Lord or not?"

**  
**

"I am," he whispered.

**  
**

Arthur sat as still as stone.  His eyes were clouded against Merlin’s searching anticipation.  Finally, the king uttered two words: "Get out."

**  
**

Moisture clouded his sight.  The prickling of tears, ready to fall at the unexpected order.  "Arthur, I..."

**  
**

"Get out!  I can't even stand this right now.  You have lied for so long.  I thought I could trust you!  Why, if you were a Dragon Lord, did you let the dragon continue to attack Camelot?"

 

Merlin stood up.  Anger bubbling up at Arthur’s accusation, but also his own guilt from creating the situation years ago.  It threatened to burst inside him.  

**  
**

How many times had he saved Camelot from total destruction?  Setting Kilgharrah free had been his only option at the time.  While many had died, those numbers had been low compared many of the other incidents.   He'd realized in the aftermath that Kilgharrah's aim hadn't been to kill the people of the city, but to cause enough destruction to entice Uther to face him.  It was Uther's blood the dragon wanted, not the innocents of the city.   Merlin couldn't blame him either.   Kilgharrah been kept chained in caves below the city for decades after witnessing the slaughter of his kin at Uther’s behest.

**  
**

His voice was steadier than he felt inside.   Eye to eye, he held the king's stare.  "I wasn't a Dragon Lord until after my father died.  His power passed to me when he was killed."  Shaking his head, Merlin snorted softly.  "How is it you think you could have suddenly defeated him after attempting the same feat for nearly a week before?"

**  
**

"You killed him, then?"

**  
**

"No.” Before Arthur could respond, Merlin continued,  “He was the last of his kind, just as I was.  I couldn't kill him.  He is my kin.  I told him he was never to be seen in Camelot again.  I showed him mercy."

**  
**

"Mercy?"  Arthur nearly choked on the word.  "How could you, Merlin?"

**  
**

The corner of Merlin's lips lifted in a half-cocked smile.  "The same way you showed Odin mercy.  It was the right thing to do."

**  
**

Arthur faltered for a second, before standing at his full height and puffing out his chest.  "Get out," he ordered again and turned away from Merlin.  "You will not be returning to Camelot with us.  If you are ever found in my lands again, I will see that it is the last thing you ever do."

**  
**

The breath exploded from Merlin's lungs and his heart clenched.  "Arthur..."

**  
**

"You are damned lucky we are not in Camelot now and I have no power here to have you imprisoned for your crimes."

**  
**

"Your life is going to be in danger."  Merlin stated with a calm that carried the weight of his words.

**  
**

"From you?"  Arthur asked, faltering slightly. "Is that a threat?"

**  
**

"No," Merlin laughed, though the sound held no amusement. The voice of Emrys came from the depths of his soul.  

**  
**

He wasn't even sure why he was trying to explain himself.  Rodor had offered him freedom from his secrets, a chance to acknowledge who he was.  Mithian looked at him with love, not fear.  She knew of Balinor and possibly of Merlin's magic.  It was only Arthur who couldn't seem to accept him.

**  
**

"Not from me.  Never from me.  I have protected you since we met.  Many times over, Arthur, I have saved you from those who would see you dead because of all the pain your father brought to his lands.  How do you think it was that the tomb shook, just as Odin was preparing to take your head recently?  Or the many times we were outnumbered, only to find suspicious amounts of luck suddenly turning the tables?  That was me, Arthur.  Without me at your side, your days are numbered."

 

He turned and walked toward the door when he heard the sound of steel being drawn.  Spinning around, gold filled his eyes as he held out his hand.  Arthur froze, the sword raised and angled toward Merlin’s chest.

 

"When you decide to finally open your eyes, you know where I'll be."   Merlin's voice lowered to almost a whisper, "I just hope you can accept it before it's too late."

  
Walking out through the door, he heard the king stumble when the spell was released.


	9. Those Who Knew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Shout out to IcarusLSU for coming in and helping me with some flow issues.

Arthur cradled his head in his hands. The sword laid in front of him on the table, but he couldn't bring himself to touch it. Merlin had lead him to that sword, he was sure now that his servant had played some larger part in him acquiring it. How else could a tale of Bruta's sword being put into a stone have escaped his knowledge. He'd studied the life of the First King of Camelot since he was a boy.

Merlin was right, there had been too many times over the years when luck had shifted in their favor. Arthur could see that now, and yet in the moment, he'd been so consumed by anger for the lies that he had nearly struck his best friend down.

Then, he saw it. Irrefutable proof in the golden fires that filled Merlin's eyes. Every muscle frozen mid-strike, as the manservant had turned around with his hand outstretched. He had expected Merlin to send him flying across the room, or for a ball of fire to consume him, but neither had happened. Instead, Merlin had stopped him. Nothing more.

He needed time to think, and he wasn't going to be able to do it while in a foreign kingdom.

Everything he had brought with him was strewn about the room haphazardly. Merlin had always told him that he'd be lost without his servant, It was almost funny how right his manservant had the moment Merlin had opened his mouth in the Throne Room, Arthur knew things were going to change. It was naive of him to assume that he would have some time to think and come to terms with it before a decision had to be made.

The voice that came from his long-time servant had unhinged Arthur down to his core. The babbling man was gone and replaced by someone who had spoken to him with the authority of one on even ground with a king. Merlin had always walked on the edge of disrespect, but not since their first altercation on the training ground, where Merlin had stated he could take Arthur down with less than one blow, had Arthur really seen the true man buried underneath.

He'd never believed Merlin - thought that those words were simply the bravado of someone who didn't know any better. There was no sense in even trying to deny it now. His Merlin had been the facade, disappearing right before his very eyes, while the powerful man underneath had put Arthur in his place.

"Sire, is everything alright?"

"No, Leon, it's not." He sat back and flicked a speck of dirt off the table. "Get the horses ready, we need to return home."

The knight moved into the room cautiously, his eyes searching the space. "Where is Merlin?"

"He will not be joining us. " Judging from the look on the knight's face, Arthur suspected that Leon already knew this. "Is there a problem, Sir Leon?"

Loose curls shook around Leon's face, but there seemed to be an argument hidden just under the gray eyes of his commander. He knew Leon wouldn't speak out against his decision. The noble born man was too well bred to question his King outright. He also knew he would be inviting trouble if he asked for Leon's opinion, but part of him was curious as to how much the man actually knew of Merlin, if he had any insights as to what had been revealed in the Throne Room. Leon was also the only other person who survived the night they faced the dragon.

"You think I'm wrong in leaving him here?"

"No, Sire. I'm sure you have your reasons, and it might do Merlin good to learn more about his family from someone who knew his father personally."

"That is not the reason he won't be with us. Do you know that it was Merlin who stopped the dragon?" He watched his knight for a reaction, and was disappointed when Leon turned his head away instead of feeling as outraged as he was over the incident. "You knew, then?"

The tall knight drew a breath and faced his king with honesty. "I suspected, Sire, but not at that time. It was later on, after a different incident."

Arthur motioned for Leon to continue.

"It was after Morgana had taken Camelot with your Uncle's help. You sent a few of us out following our victory to discern Lord Agravaine's fate. Gwaine and myself followed your path to Ealdor, and then onto the caverns where you said Merlin had lead you through the Ridge of Aesiter. Outside..." Leon paused as the memory came to him of the Southron bodies strew across the area - charred. The smell of burnt, rotting flesh still lingering in the air while crows and other carrion fed off the remains.

"Well, Sire, it looked as if they had been torched from the sky. Inside, we found your uncle's body, along with more Southrons. It was hard to tell by the time we got there, but their deaths looked to have happened at once, as if some great force had flung them into the surrounding stones."

Arthur stared at Leon in disbelief. He couldn't believe that he was only learning of this now, years later. "Why wasn't I told?"

"My life, our lives, are to protect you, Sire. We suspected, but had no proof that there was a dragon or that Merlin could use magic, but it made sense. What we saw that day and since then is that his heart is that of a knight. He serves only to protect you, as well. If he had ever acted against you, I would be among the first to call him out. But, he never has, Arthur. He is as loyal to you as I am. If what we suspected was true, his life would be forfeit. Before the druids saved me I... I don't know what I would have done. Since that day my eyes began to open to...things"

"Magic?"

"Yes, Sire."

"The law says he must be put to death. As much as I despise him at the moment, I cannot knowingly allow him to return to Camelot to face that." He stamped down the anger that threatened to build inside him at Merlin and his own instinctive reactions. If they were home, he would have thrown Merlin in the dungeons for all the good that would have done.

"If I may say so, Sire, the law is..."

"Wrong?" Arthur suggested when Leon's words seemed to fail him.

"No, Sire. For the protection of the kingdom it is necessary against the likes of Morgana and her ilk. But, you have created a peace with the druids, which I wholeheartedly support. Couldn't there be some compromise?"

A normal man might have agreed or even argued Leon's point, but as king, Arthur felt the burden of his entire kingdom weighing on him. His anger had already been spent; he was left feeling empty and hollow. There was so much he had to consider. "Thank you for your honesty."

Leon bowed and left the room, understanding the dismissal.

* * *

 

Gwaine was restless. Something big was happening with his best friend and he didn't have a clue what it was. Leon was far too calm. He'd been in the throne room with Merlin and Arthur, so obviously knew something, but as of yet, hadn't shared it with the others.

Gaius was off in a corner, entirely too grumpy. Gwaine wasn't able to recall if he'd ever seen the old man pout before, but that was the only way he could describe the way Gaius sat, hands folded, and staring out at nothing, with a deep scowl on his face.

He really wondered if more had come out in the Throne Room than just Merlin's spicy little interlude with a princess in the stables. Merlin had refused to say anything more about the situation when Gwaine had gone to speak with him. That was fine, Gwaine understood the need to keep some things secret. Hell, he had plenty of his own. From one-night stands with certain noble ladies to hiding his father's name.

He'd been sharing looks of concern with the other knights in the room. Leon had gathered everyone together to await Arthur's orders, whatever they might be. They all knew Merlin and cared for the man who followed their king around. He wasn't a knight, or even a warrior, but his skill with medicine had saved each one of them at one point or another. While they were allied with Nemeth, they would do whatever they could to get Merlin out of there if King Rodor decided to punish him for the small indiscretion.

Maybe Arthur and Merlin were just discussing ways to compensate King Rodor for any possible taint on his daughter's virtue. Maybe, but somehow Gwaine doubted that was the case.

The room they were in was a small, common area in the center of the East Wing. Like many other places in the palace, this one had a high, domed ceiling that was painted with ancient designs of creatures none of them had ever heard of. Nearly everyone who stayed in the wing had to pass through this area to get to the rest of the castle. There was little chance of Arthur or Merlin escaping after their private talk. Well, little chance for Arthur…Merlin on the other hand could find his way out of just about anywhere if he had half a mind to.

Some of the knights were playing a game of bones off in one corner. Normally, Gwaine would have gladly joined them, but he was too anxious to find out more about what was going on with Merlin. Voices echoed through the corridor, but they were muffled and unintelligible. Leon had forbidden anyone from meandering down the hallway to eavesdrop, but Gwaine still maneuvered himself to be as close as he could to it. More than one set of eyes strayed toward it when the yelling stopped and a door slammed.

"Merlin!" Gwaine called the moment he spotted his friend.

There was something different about the way Merlin stalked out into the common room, barely sparing a nod for Gwaine, before making his way out into the castle. Gwaine started to follow when Leon gave an order for everyone to stay put. Gaius either didn't hear the order, or chose to ignore it, as he ambled out after his ward. Leon quickly caught Gwaine's arm and reiterated his command. Just the tone in Leon's voice confirmed to Gwaine that his hunch was right. There were things that only the two of them suspected concerning Merlin and Arthur — it seemed that this was one of them.

The commander moved down the hall to Arthur's room. Gwaine waited for a few moments, just to be sure Leon wouldn't be coming right back out, before bolting across the room.

"Gwaine!" He heard Elyan call after him.

Gwaine turned around and held his hands out with a grin. He was never very good at following orders, the fact that Elyan somehow expected him to start now was laughable. "I'll be back when I figure out what's going on."

Percival chuckled and blocked his path and Elyan stepped up next to the large man. "Come on, Gwaine. We don't need anymore trouble while we're here. I, for one, want to get home soon. I have things to do. If you find yourself in the dungeons, we won't rescue you."

"Sure you will. Because what are friends for, right?" Gwaine shot back with his typical cockiness.

"Why don't you just let Gaius deal with Merlin. He's like Merlin's father, after all," Percival suggested.

"Did you see the way Merlin glared at him when he passed through? There's something more going on."

Elyan rolled his eyes. "Since when have you ever bothered yourself with digging deeper into things?"

It was true that Gwaine rarely became involved in any sort of dramatics, unless he was the one creating them. But, this was Merlin. He was about to respond when Leon's voice called out from the other side of the room.

"Everyone needs to gather their gear. We will be leaving Nemeth as soon as we're all ready. That includes you, Gwaine." He gave a pointed look at the subordinate knight.

He bit his tongue against a retort. There had to be a way for him to escape Leon's scrutiny. He smiled as an idea struck him. "I'm just going to go find Merlin and Gaius to inform them."

"Then he's probably going to make a quick stop at the tavern," one of the other knights called out amidst laughter.

Gwaine blew the man a kiss, accompanied by a wink. "Best not to wait up for me then, eh?"


	10. Time and Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin confronts Gaius and Gwaine agrees to a plan.

 

"Are you sure you aren't just overreacting?"

How many times had he heard that, or a similar phrase, uttered by his mentor. "You never told me that Balinor was an actual lord."

"It was my understanding that he never was. He was a nobleman's son, yes. But, there is an ancient tradition of Gedref. Some sort of quest that the son would have to go through before being able to claim the actual title, if I'm not mistaken. It's not something that is just passed down. It was supposed to be much like the quest Arthur went through to prove his worth to the kingdom." Gaius leaned back against the wall. He was in one of his more contemplative moods — the type that typically meant he would be avoiding answering anything directly.

Merlin was sick of being led around by half-answers, shrouded in mystery. "So, Balinor wasn't a lord, just a Dragon Lord?"

"Yes. Merlin, I don't see what relevance this has on the situation with Arthur."

"Because it's all about Arthur...always has been. Everything I have done in the last ten years has been for Arthur. I finally have a chance to know more about me, Gaius. Me. Next thing I know, I'll find out my mother was some sort of princess or something."

Gaius pinned him with a scowl, the eyebrow creeping ever higher. "Hunith is not a princess. If you want to know where she comes from, then I suggest you ask her." His mentor scoffed at the notion. "Honestly, though, what do you think she would say of all this? Your place is at Arthur's side. Not chasing some fool's fancy of a man you barely even knew or a woman who is far above your station."

"But that's just it! I didn't know him. I don't know anything about him. It feels as if my whole life has been a lie."

"I think you need to calm down. Once we return to Camelot, I'm sure Arthur will be willing to listen."

Merlin considered throwing up his hands in frustration. Why couldn't Gaius see what was happening? Merlin's secret was out. Arthur knew and had reacted in the worst possible way. If they hadn't been in Nemeth, who knows what the king would have done, or if Merlin would have had the courage to stand up to him. "Don't you get it, Gaius? He banished me. It's not as if I have a choice anymore. I can't protect him if I'm not in Camelot. Destiny be damned! This whole thing might have been avoided if I knew more about myself — if I knew more about my father." There was a sharp edge in Merlin's voice.

"If I thought it was relevant, I would have told you. You never asked me more about him," Gaius pointed out, attempting to turn the blame as he bristled defensively.

Merlin closed his eyes and turned his head away. "You're right. At first, I was too busy grieving a man I'd only just met, as well as saving a kingdom. Once that was done, there was so much to do to help the people of the city. Afterward... it was business as usual."

"Well, I wouldn't exactly say that."

"What would you say then, Gaius? I trusted you. I trusted your advice and look where it got me? Right now, Arthur would rather see me dead."

"Now I know you're overreacting."

He was done. How many times over the years had Gaius accused him of overreacting only to be proven wrong when yet another threat to Camelot and Arthur surfaced? Gaius hadn't seen the rage in Arthur's eyes, the same rage that he'd had when he'd nearly killed Uther. It was true that Arthur's temper had cooled in recent years. He was more likely to think and sulk before acting out. But, this situation was entirely different.

Merlin's admission had open the floodgates of emotions between both men. Perhaps they would recover in time. Right now, though, the wounds were too fresh - too raw - and they both needed space. More than anything, Merlin needed to find himself away from the lies and secrets. "I can't do this right now."

He turned and walked away, leaving the man who had been his only support for years, stuttering in the wake.

* * *

"Merlin!" Gwaine jogged through the hallway trying to catch up to his friend. If he didn't know better, he'd think Merlin was avoiding him with the way the lanky man sped up his walk and turned a corner abruptly. Gwaine quickened his own pace and managed to spot the servant as he ducked around another bend.

Catching Merlin by the elbow, his friend finally stopped. "I just heard we're getting everything set to leave. I think Arthur wants to get you as far away from womanly temptation as possible." The roguish knight grinned and clapped his friend on the back.

Merlin's back went straight and his whole body seemed to still, but Gwaine could feel a slight tremor under his hand on Merlin's shoulder.

"I'm not going with you."

Gwaine reeled back, rocking on his heels as if he'd been slapped by the serious, dark voice of his friend. "I don't understand..."

"Some things...other than what happened with Mithian... came out in the Throne Room. King Rodor knew my father…thought of him like a son."

Gwaine wanted to laugh, thinking that it was great news for his friend, but something in the way Merlin stood with his shoulders hunched and mournful expression told him it wasn't the time for merriment. "That's good, right? I mean, you told me you never knew him."

"I met him once. He was a Dragon Lord."

The knight wasn't surprised by the announcement. The theory had come about in secretive conversations between himself and Leon, after the last time Morgana took over Camelot. However, he was a bit stunned by Merlin's sudden openness. Sucking on his teeth for a moment, he tried to figure out how he should respond. "Really?"

Merlin pressed his palms over his eyes and shook his head. "I should have told you long ago."

"That's alright, we all have our secrets, as you well know. Can I ask, why are you telling me now?" He thought about his own question while the scuffle of Merlin's feet as they shifted nervously told him how heavy this burden truly was. There hadn't been many people allowed in the room during Merlin's interrogation. Arthur, Gaius, and Leon had been the only ones from Camelot who were admitted. Then, it struck him... Arthur.

Leon had already suspected and it would make sense if Gaius knew about it as well, since Merlin had lived with the physician since first arriving in Camelot. For Arthur to finally find out this information in a way which couldn't be disputed and left no room for the king to react in the presence of others, it explained a lot about his friend's odder-than-normal behavior.

"You're not... surprised?" Merlin looked at him oddly.

Gwaine shook his head. "I think some of us already knew something was different about you. But, it's a good thing. If Arthur knows..."

"Oh, he knows. I'm now banished from Camelot because of it. Well, and the other thing."

"What 'other' thing?"

Merlin slumped against a nearby wall. Defeat permeated the air surrounding him. "Magic."

"And...?" He snickered at the way Merlin's eyebrows shot up and nearly disappeared into his hairline. "If Arthur hadn't figured at least some of that part out for himself, then I really have to wonder about him."

Merlin's mouth opened and closed. His eyes shifted to the side and then back to Gwaine. Some of the tension began to leave him and he began to join in Gwaine's amusement. "I suppose I have been a bit too obvious at times."

"Yeah, and not to mention that bridgekeeper with the whole 'Courage, Magic, and Strength' stuff years ago. If Arthur hasn't caught on by now, the only way he was going to was if you came outright and said it." Gwaine slung his arm over his friend's shoulder. "He'll come around eventually. Until then, I guess you and I will just have to check out all the taverns in Nemeth."

Merlin stilled, his own laughter quickly falling away from him. "You need to go back to Camelot, Gwaine."

"Not without my best friend, I don't."

"I need you to."

Sobering at the seriousness in Merlin's voice, Gwaine licked his lips and waited for Merlin to continue.

"He's in danger. You know how little he sees of what's around him, and you seem to know more about what I've done to protect him than almost anyone else. With Morgana running around, and..."

"And... what?" He could sense the indecision in his friend, the need to confide in someone conflicting with the anxiety over how much he should say. He'd hoped that Merlin would have understood by now that Gwaine would remain his friend no matter what.

"There are other things..." Merlin's eyes scanned the area, before pulling Gwaine off into an alcove. "I have seen things, Gwaine, visions of what might come. I really don't want to say any more than that, except...keep an eye on Mordred. I know he's young..."

"Yeah, he's young, but he adores Arthur - lives to please him."

"I know, and I hope it will always remain that way."

There was something in the way Merlin said it, something Gwaine couldn't quite put his finger on, but it left Gwaine with a bad taste in his mouth. "You don't think it will?"

Merlin shrugged and it left Gwaine feeling lost, trying to assess what his friend was asking of him. Mordred had proven himself as a knight and his loyalty to Arthur far surpassed Gwaine's. Although Gwaine's father had been loyal to Caerleon and look where that got him. He'd also seen another side to those who put someone high on a pedestal, only to have it knocked down and blindsided by something out of their control.

He could easily see Mordred's childish admiration turning into something akin to fanaticism. Maybe he just had to take the kid out and show him how to relax. Gwaine could definitely do that. Perhaps he could steer the young man onto a less dangerous path that still allowed him to serve Arthur, but not worship the ground the king walked on.

"Yeah. Alright, I'll keep an eye on them both until you come home."

"Thank you, Gwaine."

The knight raked his calloused hand through the shaggy brown hair that seemed to have a mind of its own. "Well, I better go get my stuff before His Royal Highn-ass banishes me, as well. Camelot isn't going to be the same without you. You want me to get some of your things and send them out here? Just to, you know, get you by until all this blows over."

Nodding, Merlin held out his arm. "Thanks, Gwaine. Stay safe. Keep them all safe. Send a message if you need me."

Gwaine clasped the outstretched hand and immediately pulled his friend in for a brotherly hug. "Take care of yourself. Also, if you ever need some tips on women, I'll be happy to help. That princess is quite a jewel."

Pulling away, he saw a hint of a smile on the younger man's face. Merlin's life in Camelot may have been pulled out from underneath him, but his prospects in Nemeth seemed rather bright.


	11. A Different View

 

 

The plate of food in front of her smelled delicious, but she found her appetite to be non-existent. She pushed the fresh leaves of her salad around absently.

"Are you disappointed?"

Mithian shook her head in confusion. "What?"

Rodor's lips turned up into a smile. "Finding out that your secret admirer was a servant. Are you disappointed?"

"No," she said immediately. "I think somewhere in my heart I always knew it was Merlin. I just didn't want to see it because I feared you wouldn't approve."

"I wouldn't have." He chuckled when her head rose sharply. "If he was just a normal servant, I most certainly would not have. But, he is a king's personal manservant - and a freeman at that, if I understood correctly - not indentured in any way."

Mithian tried to hide the smile. When her father had come to speak with her after the stable incident, she had told him Merlin's story of how he came to be in Arthur's service.

"That and his apprenticeship to the Court Physician gave him a bit more status than normal."

"How did you know?" She pushed her fork into a carrot slice and lifted it, before putting it back on the plate. Her stomach felt like it had a thousand butterflies in it. "How did you know he was Balinor's son?"

"I was speaking with Arthur, trying to find out more about this young man, when I was informed that he came from the same region Balinor had fled to. Merlin is a lot like his father." Rodor chewed on a small bite of meat and was silent for a while.

Mithian waited. Her father liked to take his time eating, contemplating while he did so. 'Eating while thinking gives a man time to process his words without seeming like he's taking too long to say something,' he used to tell her.

Finally, he swallowed and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "When your mother was pregnant with you, she had a dream once of herself standing on the balcony next to Balinor. They were closer in age to what she and I were. I was upset by the dream, a bit jealous actually. But, then she explained that she knew it wasn't really her, nor that the man was really Balinor. I passed it off as just a dream and hadn't really thought of it for years."

"You think that it was Merlin and me?" she asked hopefully.

"Perhaps. Your mother's aunt was a seer. I know that it sometimes runs in the family. Whether it was just a dream or something more, I have no idea. I can see that he makes you happy. Now, tell me, what would you have done if he wasn't more?"

Mithian looked down at her hands. "I...I don't know. When I realized it was Merlin who had been sending me the gifts, I was torn. I didn't want to disappoint you, but..."

"You could never disappoint me, my dear. Although I would have rather you found a different way to be together that didn't involve sneaking into the stables." He grinned at the way she blushed in embarrassment. "Mithian, your happiness means more to me than I can express."

"Your Majesty," a guard said, coming into the room and bowing before Rodor. "King Arthur has requested an audience. Also, Lord Sebastian has just been spotted entering the Southern Gates."

"I see, thank you. Tell Arthur I will meet with him shortly.."

"Father, why is Sebastian here?" She asked. Sebastian was one of her father's advisors. Mithian had known him since birth. He was rowdy and obnoxious on the best of days and had been the one who initially taught her how to give a very unladylike belch...much to her father's chagrin.

His lands were just to the south of Nemeth's castle, within easy traveling distance. Then she remembered...Sebastian had been related to Balinor. They had been cousins if she wasn't mistaken. While the man didn't have the lineage to be a Dragon Lord, he was the closest remaining family to the heir of Gedref. "That was a silly question. Of course, you probably summoned him once you suspected Merlin was related to him. I'm sorry, Father."

"No need to apologize. You are correct. It is only right that he be informed of this development." His eyes looked down at Mithian's plate. The food had been shuffled around, but none had been eaten. "Since you obviously have no desire to eat and I'm sure you aren't in the mood to listen to a couple of old men talk about days gone by, why don't you go see if you can find your young man."

"Of course, Father." Normally, Mithian loved to listen to the tales, but her father was right. She was worried about Merlin. He had seemed so shaken by everything her father had brought up earlier.

She gave her father a kiss on the cheek before she left. Mithian actually found herself surprised to see Arthur waiting patiently without Merlin at his side. For a moment, it seemed wrong, but she pushed the feeling away. "King Arthur."

"Princess Mithian," the blond man said stoically.

It was quite obvious that Arthur wasn't in the mood to speak with her and after the hostility he had tried to contain in the Throne Room toward Merlin, she wasn't certain if she wanted to speak with him either. "Do you happen to know where I can find Merlin?"

Arthur gave her what seemed like a rather condescending smile, but she could see something underneath. Sadness, perhaps? Maybe a sense of regret?

"I do not. I..."

"My Lord, His Majesty will see you now," a guard interrupted.

Arthur nodded at Mithian and quickly moved through the doors before saying another word.

* * *

There was a hollow, echoing ache deep inside him. The view from the window wasn't the most direct, but it allowed him to see enough of the courtyard below without being seen himself. Gwaine had offered to stay with him, even if it seemed more like a threat to leave Arthur than anything else. He had also tried to talk Merlin into at least coming down to say farewell.

Merlin declined, saying he just wasn't ready to face Arthur yet. He had one source of consolation from his talk with Gwaine. His friend had sworn he would look after the king until Merlin found a way to return. Morgana was only one of his concerns. Mordred was a much closer threat - even if the young druid didn't know it himself.

Arthur was mounting his horse after bidding farewell and speaking some parting words to King Rodor, who stood on the grand staircase leading into Nemeth's Great Hall. Merlin couldn't believe that after ten years of loyal service, Arthur had forbidden Merlin to return to Camelot.

He understood. Really, he did. Deep down he'd known it was inevitable, but it didn't stop the tightness that seemed to be closing in on him. The weight of his destiny had always been a heavy burden, one he'd borne almost completely alone. The few times he had confided in others had brought him heartache and he feared that the same would happen again. Whether it was Gwaine taking unnecessary risks in Merlin's absence or his growing feelings for Mithian, it looked as if someone would always get hurt.

Now, after the way he'd left Arthur earlier, he knew that his king was hurting, too. Although Arthur would never admit it to anyone, Merlin knew the man better than anyone. This path - their path - seemed to be separating into different channels; flowing down some uncharted river toward a destiny that neither could imagine. For years, Merlin had wanted to tell Arthur about himself, even though he had to admit he himself obviously didn't know as much as he should have.

King Rodor seemed to have some of the answers, and part of Merlin leapt at the idea of getting to know who his father was. It was more than anyone had ever offered him. Merlin knew why his mother never wanted to speak of Balinor, she'd barely known the man - even though they had fallen madly in love with each other. Balinor had been a fascination for a young woman in search of adventure. Hunith gave him sanctuary on her uncle's word alone. She wasn't to know how her heart would be torn from her by a wave of crimson cloaks bearing down on her small village. She had loved Balinor, but she hadn't been given the chance to get to know him and so couldn't give Merlin the answers he sought.

Gaius sat quietly atop his horse, surrounded by the waiting knights. He looked much older than Merlin had ever seen him, and the young apprentice questioned his choices in life, once again. Should he have taken up the offer to study science and medicine in some far off land? Could he have been of more use to Arthur if he had, instead of feeling like he was being cast aside for something he couldn't control? The physician was the one man Merlin thought he could have depended on upon to help him and to give him answers.

If there wasn't a logical or scientific explanation, Gaius rarely believed in any of Merlin's odd feelings. They were something that Hunith had encouraged during Merlin's childhood. That was only the beginning of Gaius' deception. Looking back, Merlin couldn't begin to count the number of times he'd been pulled in so many directions and gone against his own instinct. Spending some time away from Gaius, especially right now, might be a good thing, even if he wasn't being sent off for proper training.

Even Kilgharrah had never told Merlin about his father, though the young Dragon Lord had never even thought to ask.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. Merlin had wanted to ask numerous times, but his duties to the king and to Gaius made the idea of calling the dragon for a social visit nearly impossible. When Rodor had mentioned Balinor, it ignited a flame in Merlin's heart that he'd thought had died. He needed to know about his father in order to learn more about himself, but the fear of leaving Arthur unprotected sent a chill through his bones.

A warm hand slipped into his and startled him.

"Mithian," he gasped and tried to pull his hand away, before relaxing and finding comfort in the slender, soft fingers of the princess. He tapped his toes against the floor, shuffling like a child caught with his hand in a jar of honey. Blue eyes turned back to the scene in the courtyard. "I figured that you'd have to be down there to say farewell with your father."

"And I thought you would be there to see your friends off."

"Gaius lied to me and Arthur banished me from Camelot. If I had only known, I could have been more prepared for what came out. I could have found a way..."

"A way to lie to Arthur, in the same manner that you accuse Gaius of lying to you, by keeping the truth hidden?" Her eyes, soft and gentle as a doe, sparked with a hidden fire that burned into him. They didn't accuse him of being wrong, their kindness simply challenged him to be honest with himself...and with her.

He shrugged, unable to find the words to explain to her how much this affected him. For nearly ten years, he'd been Arthur's constant shadow and Gaius had been the closest thing to a father he'd ever known. This new path was frightening and exciting all at once.

She moved closer to him and stared out the window at the courtyard below. "Do you not want to be here?"

'Do you not want to be with me?' he heard in the underlying tone. Of course, he wanted to be with her. It was something he had dreamt about since not long after he'd met her, but he'd always felt it would remain a dream. A choked sob threatened to erupt. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't cry, that he wouldn't grieve for the life that had suddenly been stripped from him. The new life ahead of him held so much promise. The woman beside him offered him too much love for him to lament about the destiny that he'd grown accustomed to.

As if sensing his distress, Mithian wrapped her arms around his torso. He couldn't hold back the overwhelming emotions. It was all too much, all too quick. His eyes stung from holding it all in. With a burst they came, falling from his eyes like a flood, and he turned to Mithian, pulling her tightly against him while he buried his face in the cascade of dark hair on her shoulder.

He shook with release and sobbed while she comforted him. The anger, the joy, the fears, and the heartache from years of being alone rode through him while she stood strong. Though he couldn't tell her all the reasons for which he cried, and thankfully she didn't ask.

After what felt like an eternity, his emotions ran their course and a wave of relief began to settle over him. He was exhausted from holding on for so long. The room weaved and danced around him, but she held him steady until he felt that he could stand on his own again.

Reaching up, she wiped away the moisture from his tears with her thumb and smiled gently before stretching up to kiss him gently. The touch of her lips was feather soft and it was taken away too soon.

"Better?" Mithian asked, watching him carefully.

Merlin nodded before leaning down to kiss her again. Wanting, needing, desiring to express his gratitude in the simple action.

Freya had been the only woman he'd ever kissed before her and those few encounters had been sweet, simple passions of a boy. While still limited in his experiences, the intensity of love he felt for Mithian conveyed so much more. It was not the burning desperation he'd felt coursing through him when she had accompanied him to the stables the night before, but something more solid, much more tangible than that fiery lust.

Merlin forced himself to pull away, fearful that he would cross the line and find himself in trouble again. This was not the darkened stables, but a brightly lit corridor in her father's castle where anyone could happen upon them.

"I... Uh..." He stumbled for the right thing to say. Embarrassment, wonder, and happiness filled him, despite experiencing such a traumatic loss of his former life.

She giggled and nodded in understanding. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself at it all until he glanced out the window and noticed that the courtyard was empty of red cloaks. A mournful sigh struck him. He'd missed watching his friends - his family - leaving him behind.

Mithian stood silently beside him for a while, allowing his thoughts to wander and settle. Her hands caressed the rough fabric of his shirt, as his arms still held her tightly. "You still haven't had anything to eat yet, have you?" Her voice held a touch of admonishment.

A guilty blush crept into his cheeks as he offered her a feeble smile.

"Come." She pulled away and took his hands. "I think we can find you something. Now that all the commotion has died down, I'm sure my father will want to speak with you soon. If you feel up to it, that is."

He nodded and allowed her to lead him away from the empty window. The sooner he found out about his own father, the sooner he could figure out his next step and hopefully work on returning to Arthur's side in Camelot. He finally let himself wonder if it could be with a beautiful lady on his arm.

Wouldn't Gwen be surprised to see that he'd finally found someone? He smirked to himself and then had to laugh out loud at the thought of missing out on how she was going to react when Arthur arrived home without him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the wonderful reviews! Each one just makes me smile and feel so blessed!
> 
> Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. Final revisions found some plot holes that needed to be filled, but then I got distracted by hosting a birthday party for my kid and 18 of his classmates/friends. OMG, that was scary, but turned out awesome. I am now the "cool mom" who gave them all lightsabers (read: pool noodles from the dollar store, thank you Pinterest!) and told them all to go beat up on each other.


	12. Necessary Proof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Rodor faces a dilemma while Merlin gets a taste of what his life could be.

King Rodor watched from a nearby hallway as his daughter had comforted the young man. Although she only recently found out that he was the one who held her heart, Mithian's only worry was her father's approval. The idea that he was a servant, wasn't an issue within her heart. However, Merlin's days of servitude were over now that Rodor had put the pieces together.

He was amazed at how much Merlin resembled his father, and wondered why he hadn't seen it before on the few occasions he'd met King Arthur.

He tried not to draw attention to himself. He hid a chuckle behind his hand as he thought about how his daughter had already been rather keen on the young man, even if she hadn't seen it yet herself.

If he had known that the boy's heritage was a secret, he might not have acted so hastily in riddling Merlin with questions about his father. But, all that Rodor had seen at the time was a link to Balinor, and the chance to discover the fate of his ward.

He felt a wave of nostalgia recalling his foster son. Balinor had come to him as a strong-willed, entitled boy whose own father had enough to deal with and couldn't find a way to make his son listen. Having no siblings of his own, Balinor had been thrown into a chaotic mix, being only a year older than Rodor's youngest son, the future Dragon Lord had quickly been put in his place. He smiled, remembering the antics the boys had gotten into during that first year alone.

He wondered if Merlin had the slightest inclination as to how much like Balinor he really was. From what little Rodor knew of him, both were protective and gentle, but with a good amount of humor and the ability to make complete fools of themselves, to divert attention from whatever it was they had really been doing.

That had been Balinor's job among the occasional hooligans that were the king's sons. More than once they had gotten away with things that otherwise would have been punished because of the boy's ability to distract.

By the time Balinor was returned to his father, he'd become an exceptional young man, ready to take on the training required of those born to the magical lines of Dragon Lords.

Merlin and his daughter had pulled apart after the young man's emotion had run their course, and Rodor almost thought to step in when they began kissing. The protective father side of him felt that he should stop it now before they carried it too far. Just as he was ready to make his presence known, they separated on their own, giggling at their innocence. He could see that neither were in a real rush to carry on further than the simple kisses and he was grateful for that. He heard his daughter mention food before she led Merlin away.

If things had been different, he doubted he would be seeing the love that had blossomed before him. Merlin would have been different - if he would have existed at all. Perhaps his years in the dark, unaware of his father's lineage, had been just what he needed to understand life.

Rodor headed back towards small Council Chambers. There were still questions that lingered in the king's mind. Before Rodor could move forward with his plans, he needed to know more about the young man's abilities.

Prior to Arthur's hasty departure, Rodor had spoken with the younger king about the situation. Arthur had been tense, but strangely open about his manservant, though he admitted that after ten years he obviously didn't know Merlin as well as he had thought. The revelation of Merlin's father had been quite a shock to him.

Magic was a touchy subject when it came to anyone from Camelot, and Rodor wasn't surprised that there was a certain amount of denial involved where it concerned someone so close to its king.

He was sure that Arthur had questions, but the deceptions that had taken place over the years had cut the younger king as surely as if a sword had been used against him. He wasn't the only one that would have reservations about Rodor's claim. Some of the older lords in Rodor's court would want proof before they fully accepted the young man - one in particular.

Lord Sebastian was awaiting the king in the council room. He'd more than likely be wondering at the sudden departure of King Arthur, and Rodor wasn't sure how he would respond to finding out that Balinor had a son. Sebastian was an unpredictable man even in the best of situations and the conversation could go in any direction.

One thing he knew for sure was that if he was to present Merlin to them, the young man needed to look the part of a lord's son, instead of a servant. Rodor turned to his own manservant and instructed him to do something about the situation as promptly as possible.

* * *

 

Merlin was starving. He and Mithian had been sitting outside the kitchen when a middle-aged man appeared. His white hair was so thin and wispy that he would have done better to shave it all off, instead of trying to gather it in a small ponytail at the back of his head. Other that that, he was dressed in modest clothing that denoted him to be a high ranking servant. It only took a few moments for Merlin to recall that the man was King Rodor's personal manservant.

After a brief exchange with the princess about her father's wishes to see that Merlin was more presentable, Merlin was whisked away with the promise that Mithian would meet with him again in the gardens. Thankfully, he'd managed to snag a hard roll before rushing after the man.

In a room, somewhere in the maze of the castle, he'd been ordered to strip out of his familiar clothes and reluctantly subjected to a quick wash before being given new clothing to wear. It was a simple shirt and trousers, along with a new pair of socks. He stared at them in awe - having never been able to afford new ones of his own. The only pair he'd ever worn had been cast offs from the king that Gwen had magically made whole, or without holes, as the case had been. Unfortunately, it turned out that they were some of Arthur's favorites, and once repaired he'd forgotten that he'd given them to Merlin. After that, Merlin refused to let Gwen touch the next pair that was already worn and threadbare. It hadn't taken them long to begin unraveling completely from the constant wear through the following winter.

His boots and coat had been brushed and looked newer than they ever had. Merlin often wondered what his things would look like if he'd ever had the time to devote to making them look as presentable as he made the Arthur's laundry.

Finally, his stomach had growled in protest. The man attending him seemed to realize that he'd caught Merlin outside of the kitchens for a reason and quickly sent him on his way to meet with the princess.

Merlin was directed toward the gardens, housed near the coastal side of the castle. In his few times visiting Nemeth, Merlin hadn't been privileged enough to see them in their grand state. But, he could imagine what they must have looked like.

During the siege, Odin's forces had torn the place apart. Neither the warring king nor Morgana seemed to care what happened to such a beautiful place. It made Merlin nostalgic for the simpler days when he was just a peasant serving a prince. He recalled how Morgana used to love sitting out among the sculpted archways grown out of rose bushes. The only reason Camelot still had gardens at that point was because of her and Uther's desire to give his unacknowledged daughter nearly everything she asked for.

The raven-haired maiden had jewels and dresses. Her bedding was the finest silk a king could afford. It was a pity that Uther had never given her what she had truly needed back then - acceptance for who she truly was and the magic she had.

He chided himself for thinking about Morgana. He actually should be thanking her, if it hadn't been for her deception, his secret courtship of the princess would have continued on without end.

His eyes followed the path of a servant who led him to an area that had been cleared of the destruction where the princess sat waiting.

She looked up as he appeared and his heart skipped a beat. It was still hard for him to believe that her smile was for him.

He sat down next to her on a blanket, feeling self-conscious and out of place. He should have been off to the side somewhere, trying to make himself invisible. Laid out before them was a picnic spread fit for royalty.

"I missed you." She reached across the plates and took his hand, squeezing it lightly.

"We weren't apart for more than an hour."

"Does it matter?" Releasing his hand she picked up a grape and popped it in her mouth. She moaned as it broke open and she tasted the sweet juices.

"You didn't have to wait for me to start eating." His breath caught in his throat and his eyebrows dipped, but it was hard to maintain the facade of being concerned when her eyes were lit with humor. He felt an insatiable desire to kiss her.

"No, but it was the polite thing to do. Needless to say, I'm glad you finally found your way out from under Peter or I might have died of starvation."

He picked up a few grapes and held them out to Mithian. "Then you should certainly eat. I wouldn't want you to go hungry."

"Says the man who hasn't eaten since last night. Whatever will I do if you waste away while I enjoy the spoils of this picnic?"

To lean across the spread and kiss her, or to give in to his grumbling belly? He was having a hard time choosing which he wanted to do more.

"Eat!" she ordered. "There will be plenty of time for other things later."

He cocked his head to the side and grinned. "Is that an order, Your Highness?"

* * *

 

The afternoon seemed to pass too quickly. When they had finished eating, Mithian suggested a walk. Linking her arm through his, she described to him how the gardens used to look, the splendor and the feeling she used to get when she spent time here. "This is the first time I've felt safe here since Odin's men ruined it. I wish you could have seen them before."

"Mithian," he began uncertainly, feeling that he needed to be straight with her about himself. She indicated that her comfort came from having her next to him, though he wondered if that would change if she found out the secrets he had kept for so long. He couldn't keep lying about his magic, especially to her. When Arthur had found out that morning the consequences had been devastating, their close companionship lay in ruins — just like the gardens around him and Mithian. "I need to tell you some things about me."

She cocked her head to the side in curiosity. "Such as?"

"I have magic."

Mithian surprised him by bursting out in laughter. "I'd already guessed that."

"No…I mean, it's more than just having magic. Some people say I am magic."

"You are magic?" Skepticism laced her voice.

He looked around the destroyed garden. There was one way he could prove himself to her. He began to mentally summon his energy and bent down to place his hand on one of the devastated rose bushes. "Ic acwoce the!" His eyes glowed and the plant began to mend itself. Split branches wove together. Fallen leaves and flowers reattached themselves. Merlin's focus grew and he spread his power through the entire garden.

Glancing up at Mithian, he could see the wonder on her face as the once beautiful garden rebuilt itself. "Merlin, this is... amazing." She smiled proudly at him. "So, you are magic."

"I am."

"If you have so much power, why have you served Arthur for so long? You could have left Camelot and not needed to hide. I doubt if Arthur, or even his father, could have touched you."

He stared out into the distance, wish it was just the magic. "I stayed because Arthur needs me...because of my destiny."

"What destiny?"

He didn't answer her right away. He wasn't sure if he should tell her about it. The prophecies of the Once and Future King. His place at Arthur's side as a silent protector. He might have been the most powerful warlock to ever roam the earth, but even he had to answer fate's calling. He didn't want to lose her or frighten her away. The magic and his heritage were obviously easy for her to accept, but how would she feel if he had to push her away for Arthur's sake?

She was growing impatient, and he could see the sudden wariness in the lines of her face. "Merlin, Arthur can have his pick of servants. He doesn't need you specifically, so what do you mean by your destiny?"

Standing up, he brushed his hands against one another, watching the dust fall away. He didn't dispute what she was saying, but he wasn't sure how to explain that cleaning up after Arthur was a way for him to stay close and protect the king. "What do you know of the Druidic Prophecies?"

She shook her head. "Not much. Why?"

Merlin took her hands and brought them to his lips, kissing the back of each one. "I suppose I should tell you the whole story of who I really am."


	13. Consider the Timing

They made their way back to the blanket where she sat and listened while he quietly described aspects of his life she could never have even guessed. The druids called him Emrys and referred to Arthur as the Once and Future King. She didn't understand what it meant. Myrddin Emrys had been Balinor's father, but the way Merlin said it sounded more like a title than a name. Maybe her father would be able to make more sense of it.

He talked a little about his childhood, how magic had always come instinctively to him. It wasn't until his mother had sent him to Camelot that he had begun to learn to control it.

"Why did she send you there?" She asked, taken aback at the thought of sending a magically enabled child to the heart of the kingdom that would see him destroyed. If she were a mother of a child who was able to move things with his mind before he could walk, that would have been the last place she would have ever considered.

"King Cenred had begun to hunt through the villages, searching for those with an aptitude for magic and conscripting them into his service. He had destroyed entire towns for trying to protect their children from him. Ealdor would have been decimated if I had been found there. Gaius is my mother's uncle. He'd used magic before the Purge and she thought that I would be able to learn how to control it under his guidance." There was a hesitation in his voice as he spoke of Gaius.

"She wasn't wrong. Gaius has been…I never thought he would keep so much from me."

"It sounds like he was trying to protect you."

"But how could knowing more about my father have hurt?"

"Perhaps he was afraid you would have left and sought out more."

"So many times what he said and what Kilgharrah advised clashed with each other."

"Who is Kilgharrah?"

Merlin chuckled and twirled a blade of grass between his fingers. "He is a dragon — The Great Dragon — who Uther imprisoned. I've been speaking with him for years. He was the first one to tell me about the prophecy. 'Two sides of the same coin,' he called Arthur and me on more than one occasion. Even when I found myself hating Arthur in the beginning, he was adamant that a 'half could never hate what makes it truly whole,' or something like that."

He told her again how he first met Arthur, standing up for the servant who used to work for Arthur. She laughed at how Merlin called the Prince of Camelot a prat and a royal arse. They were said with fondness now, though she had no doubt he truly meant them at the time. Although she had heard the story the evening before, this time, he included the parts she had instinctively known he'd kept from her. The bits about magic -how he'd been immune to the spell-song that had been cast and had dislodged the chandelier on top of the witch. Then, how he'd slowed time to pull Arthur out of the way of the dagger.

If he had told her before, she might not have believed him. She would have rolled her eyes and thought he was making it up just to try and impress her. But, after witnessing the garden's rebirth, she knew it wasn't that far-fetched and even wondered at his humility as he spoke about it.

He told her about his friend Will in Ealdor; dying and telling Arthur that he was the sorcerer, just to keep Merlin's secret from the prince. How he'd met his first love, Freya, only to have her die at Arthur's hand because of the curse that had been placed on her. About meeting Lancelot, the noblest man Merlin had ever known, and the fate that had finally befallen the great knight. He'd taken Merlin's place. Merlin had screamed in protest, as Lancelot had walked into the Veil. Morgana had later used Lancelot's wraith to drive a wedge between Arthur and Gwen…which was the reason he'd met Mithian.

Blame and regret weighed heavily on his soul as he told her about Morgana. In order to save Camelot, he'd poisoned one of his dearest friends. He didn't even know if she had a clue as to what Morgause had done by using her own sister as a focal point for the spell that left the kingdom defenseless. Though he had the power, he'd never been able to forgive himself and do what should have been done long ago, which was end Morgana's life once and for all.

He turned away from Mithian at that point. He didn't need to say anything for her to know that he blamed himself for what had happened to her just a few weeks earlier. Mithian put her hand on his shoulder and rubbed gently. Even knowing all this didn't change how she felt, nor did she consider it his fault. Most men would have given into the demons that came from taking another person's life, grown callous from the deaths they had caused, but not him. He was heartbroken over each soul he had to take while defending Arthur.

She watched carefully as his shoulders slumped forward, exhausted from everything that had happened. "When was the last time you slept?"

A softly snorted chuckle escaped him and he shook his head. "Yesterday morning?"

Well over a day and a half. The party from Camelot had arrived the previous morning, after camping in the Forest of Gedref on their ride. He had then attended Arthur once they arrived and before he'd been given permission to go celebrate with his friends.

"If I hadn't cornered you in the stables, you wouldn't have been taken to the dungeons. I didn't even consider until now that you probably didn't sleep in there."

"Not the most comfortable of hostels, I assure you. But, there are worse places to sleep," he joked.

"But you didn't sleep last night."

"No. I was too worried about you and what would happen when Arthur found out."

"Perhaps we should go in so that you can rest."

Merlin heaved a sigh and looked around the garden. "I don't want to leave here. I feel that if I were to fall asleep, I'd wake up and this wouldn't have been real. Just something to keep my mind occupied while I'm still in the dungeons, sleeping off some ale-induced dream."

Mithian pretended to be offended. "Are you saying the only reason we are here is because you were drunk last night?" She laughed though as he stammered and tried to backpedal unsuccessfully. "Merlin, don't you know when someone is teasing you?"

He rubbed his neck guiltily. "Obviously not, or at least not in my current state. I've just… It has been so long since I had the opportunity to just sit and be. I'm always either following Arthur, running errands for Gaius, or trying to save Camelot. I'm not sure when the last time was that I was able to show someone what I could do with my magic without being forced to…"

"Hurt them?" Mithian asked and watched him nod reluctantly as a tear leaked from his tightly shut eyes. "You need to rest."

She moved a few things out of the way and patted her lap. He looked at her dumbfounded for a moment, unsure.

"Lay down. At least for a bit, Merlin. With my lap as your pillow, then you will know that I am not a dream. I won't disappear on you."

Mithian had to keep herself from laughing at the glazed and frightened look on his face. Reaching out, she pulled gently on his arm, encouraging him to move closer. Very reluctantly, he laid down on the picnic blanket with his head on her thighs. He was careful not to move or touch her in any other way, tucking his hands into his armpits. It didn't take long once she began stroking her fingers through his hair for his body to relax and fall into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

Sebastian's eyebrows rose as he smirked at Rodor. "You better be right about this."

The two men had gone down to the garden to find the young couple, only to discover that Merlin was sound asleep. Rodor stared at the plants and trees that had recently been devastated by the early morning attack by King Odin's forces. The head gardener quickly explained to the king what he'd witnesses from the young man that was lying on the picnic blanket with the princess. His magic had wondrously restored it.

"I am." Rodor stood his ground, smiling at the changes. He wasn't about to let the brash man talk him out of the conclusion he'd drawn. "Aside from the physical resemblance, there is also his history to consider..and this," he said, motioning to the beauty surrounding them. "There are far too many coincidences for him not to be Balinor's son."

"I have to wonder at the timing."

"What do you mean?" Rodor looked at his old friend quizzically.

"Nothin'. Don't worry about it." Sebastian quickly changed the subject, but it left Rodor curious about what the man wasn't saying. "You think he's going to be ready to prove himself tomorrow?"

"I don't see why not. You, yourself, told me that you were sure the dragon had survived after being freed from Camelot."

Hooking his thumbs into the waist of his trousers, Sebastian huffed and readjusted his large belly. "Aye. That I have. 'Though there ain't a soul that seems to believe me."

The king grinned. "I always believed you, but it didn't matter until now."

* * *

Tops of trees swayed slightly back and forth in the breeze that rode over the forest. They were on the edge, just a few hours ride from Camelot when the king had called for a halt. The sun was going down and lighting the sky in bright oranges and pinks. It would have been a perfect sunset, except for the fact that Arthur felt empty. A huge part of who he was was now missing. How many times had he listened to Merlin commenting on the beauty of a sunset? There was no frivolous chatter. The mood of the knights was subdued without their friend around. Arthur held no illusions that every one of them considered his manservant a friend rather than just the king's lackey.

The only one who seemed to be enjoying himself was Gwaine, which was something the king found extremely odd. He'd have thought that the flamboyant knight would have been the worst of them all. Gwaine was hot-headed and never pulled punches whether they were physical or verbal. Arthur was actually surprised that Gwaine was still with them. He'd figured that the man would have abandoned his oath as a knight to stand by Merlin. A part of him had almost been counting on it as a way to protect Merlin in the foreign kingdom.

A snort of derision escaped him. As if Merlin needed protecting. The last thing Arthur had seen was Merlin's outstretched hand freezing him in place. How many times had Arthur been flung back by a wave of magic from a single gesture? Now he understood the control…or lack thereof… when such a thing had happened. It was like wielding a sword. What he'd thought had been a powerful blast, had been an uncontrolled burst of magic. Any man could swing a sword around and eventually hit something, but it took much more concentration and training to pull the punch and stop mid-strike. How much power did Merlin hold? There was only one man with them who might have a clue.

Searching for the physician, he glanced across the campfire that had been set up, where another servant — perhaps it was Leon's personal servant? He wasn't certain, as he had never paid any attention to those attending his knights. Why hadn't he? Many times they were with them when they traveled. Perhaps not when they were patrolling, but on the trip to Nemeth for a feast in honor of Arthur and his knights, many of them had some man or boy helping to set up tents and take care of the horses. They had always been invisible, perfect in their performance of their duties, and never questioning the knights or their king…completely unlike Merlin.

Gaius was huddled in his robes, shivering slightly though it wasn't from cold. He felt some sorrow and guilt while watching the old man. He wondered if Merlin had spoken with his mentor before they'd left Nemeth. If so, what was said, Arthur wondered. He'd been so wrapped up in his own anger that he'd nearly forgotten about the warning glances that Gaius had directed toward Merlin in the Throne Room.

One thought resounded in Arthur's mind: Gaius had known. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to question the old man who had been a trusted advisor to the Crown for so long. He was a traitor. He should be treated like a traitor, just as Merlin should be, but Arthur found himself feeling almost impotent with indecision. Arthur began to wonder why his father had trusted Gaius for so long. There had been many times when the physician had walked a fine line; weaving his words just right and seeming to acquiesce to Uther's wishes.

Arthur knew he'd need to speak with Gaius in private as soon as the situation allowed. But, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to hold his temper in check. If only there was some way that Guinevere could speak with Gaius first and give Arthur another day or so to contemplate…

"We need to come back this way at some point," one of the knights said to Sir Leon shortly after returning from scouting the area around the campsite. "There's a pretty nice looking game trail just beyond that copse of trees."

That was it. Arthur needed to do some hunting. It would be a nice change to not have a bumbling idiot trailing him and scaring away his prey.

He stood up and walked around the campfire toward Gaius. Speaking low, he informed the physician, "I and some of the knights will not be returning to Camelot straight away. When you reach the kingdom, you will speak with Guinevere and explain what has happened..to her, and her alone." His wife had always maintained a cooler head and been more sensible with her interrogation in difficult situations. By sending Gaius ahead of him, it would give him a chance to think things through, but also allow Guinevere to uncover the information that he would need to make a decision.


	14. A New Day

The early morning dew covered the lawns of the castle. Down below in the surrounding valleys, mist was rising into the air. Everything seemed perfect, which made Merlin all the more wary about what was to come.

The evening before, after he'd awoken refreshed from his nap in the garden, King Rodor had summoned him. Merlin had entered the king's solar with his head bowed in supplication, just as he would have with a king like Uther. Around Arthur, Merlin only did it for show when there were visiting dignitaries. He'd realized after his discussion with Mithian that he'd probably never thought of Arthur as being above him. Even in their first encounter, Merlin hadn't treated the future king as anything but an equal.

With Rodor it was different, and he approached the meeting much as he would have with Uther. However, he was much more nervous after having fallen asleep in such an intimate position in the garden on Mithian's lap. He knew he was in the king's debt for being allowed to stay in Nemeth. But it didn't mean his behavior was acceptable and he feared the repercussions. Merlin's fate was in Rodor's hands.

He had hoped to be able to find out more about Balinor, but the king seemed to have other issues to discuss, namely Merlin proving himself. The conversation hadn't lasted long. He'd been quickly introduced to his father's cousin, Lord Sebastian. The lord was unlike anyone Merlin had ever met. He was burly and square-jawed; not necessarily tall, but certainly no dwarf. He had a large, well-fed belly that hung out over his trousers, proving that the man ate more than used the sword slung from his hip. Even though he was noble, he acted and spoke worse than some of Gwaine's shadier acquaintances down in the tavern. There was something about him that Merlin couldn't quite pin down. It wasn't a bad feeling of something underhanded or evil, but neither did it make Merlin comfortable to be in the man's presence.

Rodor explained that in order for Sebastian and his other lords to take Merlin seriously as a potential consort for his daughter, he'd have to prove himself by summoning a dragon. The lie had fallen easily from Merlin's tongue when he tried to pretend that there were no more dragons.

Sebastian's snort had been silenced quickly by a look from the king, who explained that this was not Camelot and Merlin didn't need to pretend anymore. With another pointed glance from Rodor, Sebastian had excused himself from the room.

Merlin had breathed easier after that, asking for Rodor's forgiveness. The king brushed it off with a wave of his hand, telling Merlin that he understood for now, so long as it didn't become a pattern. He wanted Merlin to be ready for the morning and the test he would be put through. It wasn't anything he hadn't done before, which would simply be summoning Kilgharrah. The kicker was doing it in front an audience. He almost feared the lecture that would follow from the Great Dragon for putting him on display.

His soul felt freer than it ever had before, even with the potential pitfall.

When he first decided to tell Mithian everything about himself, he'd worried that she would think of him as some sort of monster. Perhaps she hadn't understood how serious he had been when he told her the prophecy of the Once and Future King - or, maybe she had. Either way, his heart had lifted when she told him that they would find a way to be together.

That feeling of elation had all but disappeared when he had finally returned to his chambers, the same one that Arthur had been given use of. Merlin had laid down on the bed, only to find himself tossing and turning, unused to the soft down-filled mattress. After what seemed like hours, he'd gathered a blanket and pillow to stretch out on the floor in front of the fireplace, where he finally fell into a restless sleep.

The long night translated itself into even more apprehension as he stood next to his horse, awaiting the rest of the royal party to be ready. He trembled in the chill of the morning air, but it wasn't from the cold, it was the anticipation he felt. Rodor had informed him over an early breakfast that they were going deep into the Forest of Gedref to a place near the foot of the mountains, where the hills rose up into sharp cliffs from the great labyrinth.

Having only been there once before, when Arthur had gone to placate Anhora after killing the unicorn, unsettled him. Merlin remembered his determination to not allow his prince at the time to sacrifice himself for his people along the rocky shore. He also recalled how Anhora's magic seemed to be part of the maze itself. The whole area was enchanted. He had felt the power of the land, but at the time, he had been so focused on his mission to save Arthur that he hadn't taken a chance to really see or feel the area.

"Is something on your mind?" The princess' soft voice broke Merlin from his thoughts. He turned to see her standing next to his horse and quickly slid out of the saddle to stand next to her.

"You," he lied smoothly and wondered if Gwaine's smooth flirtatious nature was rubbing off on him. He'd never really had a chance to court a woman

Mithian threw her head back in a full, musical laugh. "I'm flattered, but tell me truly."

Merlin shrugged, feeling a sudden bout of shyness overtake him. Her dark brown hair was braided and pinned back on her neck to keep it out of her face while they rode. Enough of it was left loose that it framed her face like a portrait and accentuated her beautiful, dark eyes. Mesmerized, he chuckled along with her, questioning how she knew him so well when just two days earlier he had wondered if she even knew he existed.

"I don't even know where to start," he finally confessed, taking her hand in his. He marveled at the silky-soft texture of her skin and reminisced about how her fingers had held the back of his neck when they had kissed. Licking his lips, he stared into her eyes. She didn't know him, not yet really, but in her returning gaze he saw the acceptance he had craved for so long. It didn't matter to her that he had magic and was the son of a Dragon Lord, nor that he'd been a servant and a peasant his whole life.

"I can't even imagine what it must be like for you, to learn all these things about your father. If I had known, I would have told you what I learned about him from my own father long ago."

The flowing, angled line of her jaw, her thin nose, luscious lips... they all set his blood flowing and his breathing came in shallow shaky gasps. Merlin wanted nothing more than to bend over and kiss her in that moment. He always dreamed of a day when someone would see him, would want to know him beyond the face he showed to the world.

His hand moved of its own accord and lifted to cup her face. Leaning in, he prepared to kiss her. Mithian's face tilted to accommodate his unspoken desire.

Voices of men and the clopping sound of hooves on cobblestone announced that the king had arrived. Embarrassment flooded Merlin's cheeks and his movement turned into a quick, darting peck on Mithian's cheeks. It wouldn't do for her father to catch them in an embrace in the courtyard.

He mouthed an apology. She smiled in acceptance, though he could see the mild irritation in her eyes at being denied what they both wanted.

King Rodor either didn't notice or ignored their sudden awkwardness as he came up to Merlin and his daughter. "Are you ready, son?" he asked.

Merlin nodded and tried to drop Mithian's hand, even though she stubbornly held on. "I think so, Sire, though I'm not sure what it is I'm supposed to do. You said you wanted to test my abilities to prove that I am who you say."

Rodor inclined his head towards the gates where a group of noblemen sat waiting. The whole entourage seeming eager to be on their way. "Those are Lord Bertrand and Lord Travis. They are my two most trusted advisors, along with Sebastian. They knew your father, though I dare say they didn't exactly see eye to eye on things. Not many in my kingdom did, sadly."

Pursing his lips, Merlin evaluated the nearby lords. He felt Mithian tighten her grasp and made a mental note to ask her about it later. "Why is that?"

"They thought after Myrddin died that Balinor should take up the cause against Camelot, both for the last dragon and for the magic that had been lost. Sebastian especially felt Balinor was a fool to try and parlay with Uther for peace. They got into a very heated argument and all but disowned each other over it.

"Years later, when Camelot declared that the dragon had been killed following his escape, it hit Sebastian hard. He swears that he has seen the dragon, though and that the herald from Camelot had been mistaken. If the dragon did survive it gave him, and myself, hope that Balinor still lived...which did not sit well with any of the others. They considered him a coward and a liability for the way he walked into Uther's trap."

Gulping, Merlin shook his head nervously. Arthur now knew that the Great Dragon was still alive, and he wasn't happy about finding out. Merlin really wasn't sure he was ready for others to know, but it seemed that calling Kilgharrah was the only thing that would assure King Rodor's lords that Merlin was indeed who he claimed to be. Exhaling loudly, Merlin rubbed the back of his neck. "I understand, I think."

The king smiled and started moving toward his waiting horse. "We'll discuss this more as we ride."

Merlin bit his tongue. Each bit of new information only served to pile on more anxiety. Turning to Mithian, he saw something he hadn't seen since he'd left his mother back in Ealdor to find his fate in Camelot...someone there for him, standing with him, no matter what.

"No matter what happens, I won't give up what we have found," she reassured him.

"What about your kingdom?"

"It would mean nothing without you at my side."

He wanted to believe her, but he couldn't fully convince himself. His destiny with Arthur still hung over his head, despite all the new developments.

"You're thinking again."

"Me? Thinking? You really don't know me that well if you can accuse me of that."

"Well, since I can't seem to stop you, at least let me distract you as you help me on my horse."

Merlin grinned and didn't argue. The opportunity to touch her while helping to lift her up as she climbed into the saddle was simply too tempting to pass up.

* * *

Her horse moved at an easy pace and her eyes automatically scanned the surrounding forest for signs of game. As per her father's wishes, however, she had left her crossbow behind. Today wasn't for hunting. Her father was riding near the head of the group and had Merlin alongside him to discuss various aspects of what was expected once they reached the high knoll that overlooked the Labyrinth of Gedref.

That left Mithian to ride by herself behind them, but in front of her father's Lords. She felt self-conscious with them at her back, especially Sebastian and Travis, whom she had overheard involved in a discussion earlier that morning in the castle. While she couldn't be certain what they were saying to each other, the secretive tones and hearing Merlin's name mentioned hadn't sounded benign.

They were talking about some sort of plan that had already been put in place long before Merlin's heritage had been revealed. She had nearly gasped and given away her position, hiding behind a corner pillar, when they also spoke of Morgana's efforts to bring magic back. However, from their tone, she wasn't certain if they agreed with Morgana's methods. There was a brief mention of a judgment coming for both the Pendragons.

Suddenly the men stopped speaking. Their hushed conversation was thwarted as a group of knights passed by on their patrol of the castle. Their footsteps loud and their swords clanked against their armor overrode their voices. By the time they had passed, Sebastian and Travis had moved on from the area and Mithian wasn't in a position where she could follow them.

It seemed as if their conversation was done, though, when she finally saw them standing apart outside of the castle. The two looked on normally and spoke to their own men. Nothing out of the ordinary at all. Their conversations with Lord Bertrand during the ride, at least from what she could hear, centered around issues of the kingdom and rebuilding from Odin's assaults.

Why then, couldn't she shake the feeling that they were up to something?

She desperately wanted to tell Merlin about what she had heard, afraid of what the others might be planning. Although, it didn't seem like their plotting was against him. Still, if what he had told her about his destiny was true then Arthur could be in trouble.

Shaking her head, she realized there was nothing she could do about it for the time being. She looked up when she felt her horse stop and noticed they were there. Down below the hill, a great valley spilled out to the sea, filled with the hedge and stone walls of the Labyrinth.


	15. Hunting Delay

* * *

"I can't believe he wanted to go hunting. Why now? We should be on our way back to Camelot with Gaius and the others." Elyan kicked at a pebble with his boot like a pouting child. Something had happened in Nemeth. Something big that had to do with Merlin. Only Leon, Arthur, and Gwaine seemed to know what it was while he and Percival were kept in the dark.

Gaius had looked older than ever, as he'd mounted his horse to leave Nemeth the afternoon prior. It felt like a cloud followed the entire party as they rode along toward their usual campsite in the Forest of Gedref. The whole scenario just didn't sit right. The camp felt empty without the usual banter and Merlin's sly humor to keep them entertained. Each time Elyan, or one of the many other knights with them, had tried to question why Merlin was being left behind, they received cold glares from the king and were rebuked with the short answer that it would be discussed when they reached Camelot.

That answer would have been all well and good if the king hadn't decided he wanted to go hunting the next morning. Elyan had promised his sister that he would accompany her to visit their father's grave on the anniversary of his death, as they had done every year since his return. At the pace they were moving, he wondered if they would ever make it back in time. He still had almost two weeks before the planned ride with his sister, but he had plans to work on something special to place at his father's gravesite; something that had been a long time in coming.

Tom had not been allowed a marked grave during Uther's reign, as he had been considered a traitor to the kingdom. After Uther had become mentally incapable of ruling, Elyan had received his knighthood, and Gwen became engaged to Arthur. Elyan had approached the king asked permission to rectify that, especially since it had come to light that it had been Morgana who had freed Tom.

Although it happened a few years before the witch had shown her true colors, it was enough to make Arthur consider the possibility. So many things had happened after that, Elyan could barely wrap his head around it all. Uther had died, Lancelot had returned, and Gwen had been banished for a time.

Elyan was shocked when, a few weeks ago , Arthur had approached him and told him that he hadn't forgotten the request. A whirlwind of activity followed. Elyan knew how to work metal, not stone. He had made a deal with a local mason and was crafting tools in exchange for the stone marker that was to be made. Those tools sat, nearly complete, on Tom's old workbench, waiting for Elyan to finish them.

It was going to be a surprise for Gwen, and he hated the thought of having to put it off another year just because the king found himself in a foul mood. It didn't help Elyan's mood when he was the one chosen to carry Arthur's stuff. Without Merlin around, it seemed that he and Percival were the ones picking up the slack. Leon was Arthur's right hand, and though the knight had offered to help, Arthur wanted him to hunt, as well. Gwaine..well, Gwaine was just Gwaine. Nothing more needed to be said on that matter.

Percival chuckled at his short companion. He understood Elyan's impatience to get home. "I'll help with the bellows when we do get back, so you can finish the tools."

Elyan smiled, bright teeth flashing amidst his dark skin. "Thanks. You're a good friend."

Ahead of them, Arthur held up his hand for silence and began to creep forward along the game trail he'd found. Leon and Gwaine followed the king quietly while Percival and Elyan waited with the gear. Elyan finally began to realize the pains Merlin must have gone through every time they went hunting.

He, himself, wasn't a stranger to hard work, but the amount of stuff that Arthur insisted on bringing along went so far beyond the necessities and into complete excess. He made a mental note to never challenge Merlin to feats of strength that involved carrying Arthur's belongings.

Elyan didn't know Merlin that well. They just never really seemed to have anything in common other than Gwen. His sister always spoke of Merlin as the truest friend she'd ever had, defending him against Arthur and some of the knights in a variety of situations. For the first time, he finally understood what his sister had been talking about when she spoke of her friend's strength. It was more than just bearing the load of gear. Merlin had more patience than any of them. He needed it to put up with Arthur.

"I miss Merlin," he finally said to Percival, when they began to move forward again.

The larger man nodded his agreement. He opened his mouth to add something but closed it when movement from ahead caught his attention. Arthur had stood up. The crossbow dangled from his hand and aimed at the ground. Leon stood a pace behind the king with his hand on his sword, but not yet drawing it out. It was enough to tell Percival and Elyan that something other than hunting was about to happen.

They stashed the gear to the side of the trail and moved forward. Unencumbered by the baggage, they followed Leon's stance in readiness for whatever was up ahead. What they saw in front of them answered one question about Merlin's absence, but raised at least a dozen more.

* * *

Clammy hands tried to wipe the sweat away against rough trousers. He felt the eyes of everyone gathered staring down at him; watching, waiting and judging to see if he was truly who he claimed to be. Only once had he ever sent out the call for the Great Dragon in the presence of another and that was when he and Lancelot had been running from the Doracha.

This scenario was completely different, yet somehow Merlin felt he had more to lose this time. At the time with Lancelot, their lives had been at stake - which was a nearly weekly occurrence for Merlin. He'd actually gotten used to the constant struggle for survival. He forced the lump in his throat down and tried to keep the butterflies in his gut from bursting out.

For a moment, he considered telling them all to go to hell. He didn't want to call Kilgharrah down like some sort of party trick just to prove he was Balinor's son. Then, as he turned, Merlin's thoughts stilled and his breath was taken away.

The sun hit her perfectly, illuminating the porcelain face surrounded by dark, luxurious hair. She smiled encouragingly at him and his heart swelled. He could do this. If only for her, he would do this. Kilgharrah might not even appear when he realized there was such an audience. Of course, Merlin knew that he would. The dragon had to come to his command, even if the next hour was filled with rants and lectures about how such a proud species shouldn't be put on display in such a manner. It would be worth it, though.

He licked his lips and turned away from the crowd, using the edge of the forest as a visual for grounding himself. Now, he wished he hadn't done that. His nerves came back and hit him full force when the glint of chainmail below a golden head of hair caught his attention from inside the treeline.

Arthur was supposed to have been back in Camelot by now. Merlin couldn't fathom why his king had chosen to follow him to this place. Worse than that, his friends - Arthur's personal knights - were standing with their king, staring at him with mixed expressions of shock and surprise. Except Gwaine; the carefree stance and happy-go-lucky smile didn't need to know what was happening in the clearing. The look gave Merlin courage and told him to 'give 'em hell' with whatever he was doing.

Merlin nodded his thanks and gathered his fortitude. If Arthur wanted to know the truth, it was time that he saw it first hand.

Tipping his head to the sky, Merlin's deep voice resonated through the clearing as words of the Dragon's Tongue spilled from his lips. Familiar and emboldening, he felt a sense of peace and power come over him. He was the last Dragon Lord. He would prove that he had inherited his father's gift. In front of the kings, nobles, and knights, he was ready to make his stand for the woman he loved and the friend who believed in him.

* * *

Scales undulated, as a long neck and tail uncoiled, and wings stretched out as he woke from his slumber. The call was powerful...and close; closer than it had ever been before to Kilgharrah's sanctuary. There was no desperate sense of urgency, as there had been many times before. Somehow, though he knew it was Merlin, the tone was completely different - finally grown up, if he thought about it.

Lately, Merlin's calls had become more sure, as the young man finally accepted his place in life. However, at the same time, it pained the Great Dragon as he felt the Golden Age slipping away. Three years of relative peace had fallen upon the kingdom of Camelot. Peace treaties had been signed and upheld. There were still a few lands that refused to be a part of such a great alliance, yet slowly, they were fading away. Someday, other nations would rise and claim victory; great empires that would span all of Creation beyond Albion.

Peace and war were cycles lived out not only in human lives but had led to the downfall of his own kind. For nearly twenty years, Kilgharrah believed he would be the last of the dragons. He was abandoned by his kin. He never fully blamed Balinor for leaving him in King Uther's hands, but he never quite forgave the man either. When he first sensed Merlin in Camelot, the Great Dragon had thought that perhaps Balinor was coming for him at last, but he quickly realized that Merlin had no idea about his heritage.

That alone had angered Kilgharrah more than all the years of confinement he'd suffered. When Merlin freed him, he was set on drawing out Uther to exact his revenge, but the king never came. Uther was a coward of the worst kind. He'd used and abused magic to get his way...ridding the world of dragons and securing an heir for his kingdom before turning on those same magic users who had helped him.

Moving to the mouth of the cavern where he'd made his home, Kilgharrah's sharp eyes scanned the horizon. Casting his eyes to the east, from where Merlin's call had come, Kilgharrah was surprised to see a gathering upon the grassy knoll. He knew instinctively that his Dragon Lord was among them. "Now, Young Warlock, why would you summon me in broad daylight, with so many witnesses surrounding you?"

Below him, the Labyrinth of Gedref spread out across the valley. The maze had been created even before Kilgharrah's time by the Fae folk that once inhabited the region. The sea bordered one side while steep mountains surrounded the other three. It was meant to lure in any human who tried to approach the lands by water, only allowing them to stay if they found their way through the twisting pathways amidst the tall hedges. The Fae, seeking to protect their magical island, had thought it impossible for the humans to traverse. But, the kingdoms that were now scattered across the lands proved them wrong.

On the mountains across from Kilgharrah's cave, he could make out the ruins of a castle that had once belonged to the Dragon Lords. Not long ago, by his reckoning, it had been a grand mansion filled with life. He'd considered mentioning the place to the last of the Dragon Lords, but he felt that Merlin wasn't quite ready to know about his family. How would the boy even handle something like that, he wondered, when Merlin couldn't even muster the courage to tell his king his secrets.

Perhaps, there was no need for Kilgharrah to divulge his knowledge. Maybe fate had finally intervened and chosen a different way for Merlin to fulfill his destiny.

He was wary about revealing himself where others could see. He'd recently experienced a few close calls while trying to lure Aithusa away from the witch. The young dragon had developed a fondness to Morgana that Kilgharrah couldn't comprehend, even disappearing from the lands for nearly two years, before resurfacing a mere shell of what a dragon should have been. Sadly, there was nothing he could do to turn the young dragon's heart away from the vile woman without endangering himself.

It was her kind that had stood by Uther and destroyed all of his kin before the mad king turned his hatred upon them. Although Morgana was probably ignorant of her gifts, he couldn't take the chance that he would become imprisoned like before, or worse...that she would destroy Aithusa in her madness.

He knew he needed to answer Merlin's summons. Their shared bond compelled him to respond. However, with the warlock so close, Kilgharrah decided to get answers about the situation before flying blindly into a trap as he had done with the fool, Balinor.

"Has the time finally come, Young Warlock, when you have decided to give up all your secrets?"

"...Not all of them," the mental reply came.

The dragon made note of Merlin's hesitance. "Interesting that you have chosen Gedref as the place you would summon me from, to be put out as a spectacle for your gathered audience."

"The 'audience' isn't exactly my choice, but King Rodor needs proof of my birthright."

Kilgharrah laughed, a deep and full sound that he knew would echo through the valley. "I would have assumed that Rodor would have passed on from this world by now. I haven't thought of him in many years. He has told you of your father?"

"He has. You never told me Balinor was a noble."

"Nor did Uther's physician. Nor did you ever ask me about him." He almost pitied Merlin when he was met with a momentarily angry silence. Perhaps he should have told the young Dragon Lord about his family, but Kilgharrah had always supposed that when Merlin was ready, he would have asked. "What is it you would have me do, Merlin?"

"I just need you to come to us, to prove that I am who I claim to be."

There was more to the story, the dragon silently concluded. Merlin had been adamant about keeping Arthur, and everyone else, in the dark for years. "Why is it suddenly so important for you?"

"Because of her."

He laughed again. It would figure that the boy had truly grown into a man, and now had someone of interest in his life. "Her?"

"King Rodor's daughter, Princess Mithian." Merlin's mental voice seemed to drift into a dreamy state when he said her name.

"Very well, I will come and meet this girl who has changed the course of destiny and made you reveal yourself to Arthur and others. She must be quite spectacular if she could finally break through the secrets you have kept."

He felt a smile permeating the words when Merlin answered: "She is."

Satisfied that there was no ulterior motive prompting the summons, Kilgharrah took to the sky.


	16. Disguises

 

"Majesty, some of the knights have returned."

"Only some?" Gwen looked up from the table, piled high with papers, and wrinkled her nose. She didn't like the sound of that. Arthur and his men weren't even due back for another two days. There had been no reports of anything untoward happening in the kingdom. "Is the king with them?"

"No, My Lady. The king and his inner circle are not among them."

She thanked the herald and sent him on his way. Perhaps Arthur felt he didn't need the entire party of knights he'd taken with him once the feast was over. It wasn't as if there had been that many with him. He wouldn't have even taken as many as he did if it hadn't been Gwen's insistence that her husband have extra protection. After the events in Nemeth, she worried that Morgana might try to ambush Arthur and his men on their way to the neighboring kingdom, as her body had not been found amidst the rubble of the tomb.

She debated on going down to greet the returning knights, but if there was any urgency she surely would have been informed of it. Instead, Gwen decided to keep reading through the papers in front of her. Most were concerning recent levies along the northern borders, which had seen an increase in vandals and brigands since Morgana's surprise return and occupation of Ismere a few months earlier.

Arthur was torn on whether he needed to increase the taxes to pay for the increase of soldiers he was sending to the region, or if he should let the farmers have some relief due to the costs they were already incurring from replanting fields and replacing livestock. Having grown up as a peasant and since becoming queen, she understood the quandary from both aspects of the problem.

While she hadn't gone down to welcome those who rode in, she was ready for a break when the door to the room opened and Gaius stepped in. "My Lady, I hope I am not bothering you."

"Not at all, Gaius," she said with a relieved smile. "Is everything alright?"

"The king wanted me to speak with upon my return to explain his delay." He shuffled over to the chair across from her. "There was an incident in Nemeth involving Merlin."

She motioned for him to sit down, and then waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts. Since Tom had died, Gaius had always felt like a surrogate father to her. She trusted him and considered him a friend. She hoped that he felt the same. Whatever was weighing on his mind was like a mantle over his sagging shoulders. He slouched into the chair, visibly exhausted from the ride back. "Is he alright?"

Gaius shifted in his seat, the barest hint of a smile forming before he became solemn once again. "He is. Although, it appears that he had been secretly sending gifts to Princess Mithian for a few years now."

Gwen stared blankly at him for a few moments before she burst out laughing. She had known that Merlin had been up to something, and she did suspect there was a girl involved. But, she had kept her suspicions to herself. It was Merlin's business. She assumed when the time was right he would come forward. In the meantime, she didn't want to trouble Arthur with her observations, knowing that he would just make a joke out of it at Merlin's expense. What she hadn't counted on was that the girl happened to be a princess, much less one who had first come to Camelot with the intention of marrying Arthur. "Mithian? Are you sure?"

"Quite, My Lady. 'Though, I am uncertain as to the source of your amusement over this issue. Merlin actually found himself in a bit of trouble when he and Princess Mithian were found together in the stables after the feast, and he was thrown into Nemeth's dungeons."

The queen bit her bottom lip. Merlin being in the dungeons wasn't really a surprise, but how he managed to get there was a bit shocking. Of all the women in the realms... "How did Arthur handle this?"

She was sure now that the reason for her husband's delay was that he was trying to smooth things out with King Rodor. The fewer men he had to deal with getting bored during the negotiations, the less chance of him needing to get them out of trouble, as well.

Gaius shrugged. "He is not taking things very well if I may be honest. However, I believe that has more to do with what happened the next morning, than the actual indiscretion itself."

There was more to the story. Somehow that didn't shock her. She was certain Rodor would be demanding some sort of recompense for what had happened. However, she didn't have a clue what that could entail. If Morgana had ever been caught in the stables with a mere servant, Uther would have made an example of the man with a spectacle of beheading the man in the Courtyard for all to see.

King Rodor didn't seem to type to take things to the extreme, but Mithian was his only heir. He could demand almost anything and Arthur might have to consider it. She knew that her own status from peasant to queen was extremely rare. There was no way any king would think of allowing such an arrangement with his only daughter.

"Oh, I see," she said somberly. "What was it that Rodor was demanding for compensation?"

"Well, that's the thing. He wasn't."

Her dark eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What do you mean?"

Gaius took a deep breath and sank back into the chair. "Has Merlin ever told you anything about his family?"

"Well, I got to know Hunith when I stayed with her in Ealdor. Other than her, no. I don't think he's ever mentioned any other family."

"Merlin's father…he was a Dragon Lord."

Gwen stared at Gaius, trying to determine if he was joking, which was a rarity for the old man, though he occasionally had his moments.

"I see," she finally said, though she really didn't. She knew what a Dragon Lord was from when the dragon had attacked Camelot. Arthur and Merlin had gone out in search of a man who was supposedly the last of his kind. It was rather shocking to hear Gaius say that Merlin was related to such a man. Yet, it didn't explain anything about what had transpired with King Rodor and the situation with Mithian. "What I don't understand is what this has to do with the current situation."

"The man that Arthur and Merlin had sought out when the dragon was attacking Camelot, was Merlin's father. Merlin inherited the gift after Balinor died."

Gwen recalled that time and how once everything had settled down, there had been a difference in her friend. Now, she understood why. But, it still didn't explain what had happened in Nemeth, nor why Gaius was telling her this. "You knew him?"

"I did. As did King Rodor."

Ah, ha! She exclaimed in her mind. That was the connection. She motioned for Gaius to continue.

"He was actually King Rodor's ward, before the Great Purge. It would appear that something in Merlin reminded the king of Balinor. He questioned Arthur about Merlin's history and was able to put the pieces together. Once he discovered that Balinor was Merlin's father... well, that was when the situation became more complicated."

How much more complicated could it be? She resisted the urge to rub her fingers into her temples as a headache, born of confusion, began to set in. "Uther thought that he had killed all of the Dragon Lords because of their magic. If Merlin is a Dragon Lord, then… Arthur." Sighing heavily, she thought she could see where Gaius was going with this. Arthur would feel compelled to adhere to his father's laws, which would put him at odds with his own conscience.

Arthur had just begun to come to terms with the fact that he'd already changed so much of his father's kingdom, after the recent haunting by Uther's ghost. He'd hidden and buried so much emotion, that even Gwen had been surprised when, after banishing the ghost, he'd come to her in tears about all that had transpired. He had released so much of the guilt that had plagued him, but so much of the kingdom was still his father's. His own view of sorcery as being evil had strengthened because of his own weakness when it came to using it.

Merlin had stood by him, as he had many times over the years. For Arthur to now find out that his closest companion might have some sort of magic...Gwen couldn't begin to guess what her husband was going through.

"What happened?"

"King Rodor has offered Merlin asylum in Nemeth and it seems that he is willing to allow a relationship between Merlin and his daughter.  Arthur chose to leave him there.”  Gaius paused and pursed his lips.  “He asked that I inform you of the situation and that he will return soon.”

“Soon?”  What could her husband be thinking or doing if he didn’t return to Camelot with Gaius and the others?  Nor, did it appear he had stayed in Nemeth to work out the situation.

“He needed some time to think.”

  
“He went hunting, didn’t he?”  Gaius didn’t need to answer for her to see the truth on his face.  "Perhaps that is for the best, for now at least." She thanked Gaius for bringing the information to her and asked if there was anything more she needed to know.

Gaius started to open his mouth and she waited patiently. He soon closed it and shook his head, unable to say more.

It occurred to her how hard this must have been for Gaius. Merlin had been his ward for ten years. They shared a very close bond similar to a father and son. He had known about Merlin's secrets and had kept them in confidence, knowing that his own life would have been forfeit if anyone found out. Even now, he could be tried for treason, though Gwen would never have the heart to sentence him. He'd given so much of himself for the kingdom, for Uther and Arthur…all of them.

"Gaius, are you alright? I know how close you and Merlin are. This must be quite a shock. I have known you my whole life, Gaius. I am sure there is much more to the story. You can tell me after you have had a chance to rest."

He smiled and nodded his head. She could tell he was grateful that she hadn't called for the guards or berated him for harboring a sorcerer. "Thank you, My Lady."

Once again alone, she chewed on her lip. The levy parchments before her were all but forgotten.

 _"I'm in disguise."_ Merlin had told her when they first met. She never knew what to make of his quirky words, until now. Her father had been saved by magic once, and then later killed because of it. Gwen had to wonder if Merlin had anything to do with Tom's initial recovery from the sickness in the water. She'd heard afterward how he had burst into Uther's Council Room, filled with Lords of the land, and proclaimed himself to be the sorcerer. She had convinced herself that it was a desperate attempt to save her life, as she had been the one accused of being a witch. Now, she wasn't so certain.

Had he saved her father? There were many things over the years that never quite added up when it came to Merlin. A flash of a memory came to her. She and Merlin sat on the steps outside of the castle, discussing Sir Valiant. Merlin perked up and asked if she had a wheelbarrow, and then asked her the oddest thing: to help load one of the stone dog statues into it. She thought he was insane, but the next day the snakes on Sir Valiant's shield came alive during the combat. What one had to do with the other, she had never been able to connect…unless Merlin had somehow used magic to prove his accusation. Wouldn't that have made Merlin just as guilty as Valiant in the use of magic?

Over the years, the odd coincidences had continued. Did she blind herself to the possibility? She must have. If she had ever given it much thought, it would have been easy to put together ... but it would have been at the cost of her friend's life.

As queen, she had the power to do something about it; something she could have never done as a blacksmith's daughter. What could she do, though? Arthur had the final say in these matters, yet he had chosen to go hunting instead of coming home and confiding to her. Her husband had many great and endearing qualities, but discussing personal matters had never been one of them.

* * *

Staring out from the depths of the foliage, Arthur felt like a voyeur as he watched his former servant.

Merlin knew he was there. He had looked right at him. The hunt was supposed to be a diversion for his overworked mind. It was a way to convert his emotions into a physical release before returning home, not a chance to see Merlin show off and prove that he was more than the king had ever realized.

He still had no idea how he was going to tell Guinevere, and honestly hoped that Gaius' explanation would suffice since he had the physician ride ahead with the rest of the group. The last possible thought on Arthur's mind was that he would end up running into the man who had caused the whole situation in the first place.

Merlin looked nervous, stepping away from the crowd. However, that didn't last long once the former servant caught sight of them. A grim determination fell over Merlin's face. The guttural voice that erupted from Merlin was similar to the way he had last spoken to Arthur, but there was such an immense power behind it.

Arthur shivered involuntarily. He began to wonder at how little he knew his manservant. Ten years of being at each others side, night and day, obviously wasn't enough to really see someone for who he was. King Rodor had obviously supplied Merlin with some new wardrobe pieces. They weren't the fancy clothes of a nobleman, but they were certainly a step up from what Merlin was able to afford as a servant.

The younger man had always been an enigma. There had always been something that Arthur could never put his finger on. All he knew was that it had felt complete to have Merlin at his side, no matter how idiotic the servant's antics were.

He almost called to Merlin, but something held him back. His pride was wounded, his ego deflated. Merlin gave him a look of longing as if waiting for Arthur to announce his presence.

Then, blue eyes fell to the ground - breaking the hold with Arthur's eyes. Merlin cocked his head to the side as if he was listening to something only he could hear. Those eyes rose again and met Arthur's briefly, filled with longing and sorrow, but there was no regret. Then, Merlin turned around began making his way toward Mithian.

It was all so wrong. Merlin shouldn't have been standing out there with King Rodor and others Arthur didn't know. Dressed as he was, Merlin seemed to fit in with them. Mithian reached out her hand to the dark-haired man, welcoming him back to her.

He'd always just classified Merlin as a servant, even with their close bond of unacknowledged friendship. But, he wasn't a servant. In that moment, Arthur began to truly understand what he had lost.

* * *

"Arthur?" Leon asked. His voice was barely a whisper through the trees. He'd glanced around at the others, trying to gauge the reactions of each, while he waited for his king's order.

Gwaine shook his head with a silent chuckle. He seemed all too amused with the whole situation. Elyan and Percival gaped with open-mouthed shock, completely taken aback at the new view they saw of Merlin. They shared nervous glimpses. Their eyes shifted from each other to the king, and then to Leon, silently searching for answers.

A sound that only two of them had heard before caused them all to turn their heads to the sky. A large, dark form silhouetted against the bright sky swooped over the nearby mountains and turned its wings toward them.

Leon knew what it was and that Merlin had been the one to summon it. He turned to his king, wondering what Arthur would do. The last time they had seen the creature was when they had faced it down on the meadow outside of Camelot. They had lost so many knights that day. Good men. Brothers-in-arms. Their blood had pooled amidst the tufts of grass and wildflowers.

Then, there was the field along the Ridge of Essetir, where the Southrons had been left as nothing more than charred lumps of flesh; burned by dragon fire that had ended up saving Arthur from their relentless pursuit.

"Sire?" Leon asked again, trying to get Arthur's attention while noting the tension in the king's shoulders.

"Let's go." The king spun around and stalked away through the forest.

The others watched Leon. He nodded and indicated that they should follow Arthur. He wanted to see the dragon, circling in the sky above, as it landed. Yet, he was also glad that their retreat back to their waiting horses meant he could put it off for another day. There were still too many questions and too many memories of the devastation that the beast had caused.

"What was that all about?" He heard Elyan whisper to Percival from up ahead.

The larger man shrugged. "I think Merlin was calling to that dragon."

"That couldn't have been a dragon. They're all dead."

"No, they aren't," Leon interjected.

Both knights stopped dead in their tracks and turned to look at their commander.

Opening his mouth, Leon paused and tried to figure out how to explain the situation. Merlin was the bastard son of a noble, and from a conversation Leon had heard when he was very young, a rather magical family.

It wasn't until after they had left Nemeth and begun the ride to Camelot that the memory even came back to Leon. He couldn't recall the context, but he knew it had been around the time when the prince had been born. His father had secretly spoken with a colleague when Leon should have been asleep in bed; passing on information that there might still have been a chance at peace between the dragons and humans through the Son of Gedref.

Gwaine and Arthur had already made it back to the horses, while the other two continued to stare at Leon, waiting for an explanation.

"It would be better for Arthur to explain."

"What's there to explain?" Arthur called without turning away from his horse.

Leon cringed. He knew he hadn't been loud, but he should have realized that the king had an ear turned his way. "I'm sorry, Sire. But, this whole situation..."

Arthur smirked as he climbed onto his horse and waited patiently for the others to do the same. "Seriously? What is there to explain?" There was a cold, hard edge to his voice that none of the knights had ever heard before. "Merlin is the son of a noble. Merlin is a Dragon Lord. Merlin is in love with Princess Mithian and I wish him all the best in life."

"Hey!" Gwaine began to protest, but was cut off by the steely glare from Arthur.

"And Merlin is a sorcerer! There is to be no more discussion of this - now or ever. Is that understood?" He tried to meet the eyes of his four knights. Only Leon returned the stare with a solemn nod.

He understood that his king was hurting from the betrayal. Even when Gwen had been caught with Lancelot before the wedding, there hadn't been the vehemence from Arthur as there was now. He was hurt and broken-hearted, falling into a depression and questioning himself at every turn. The wounds that Merlin had inadvertently inflicted were still fresh and raw. They would take a long time to heal. Leon shifted his gaze to his fellow knights, "Yes, Sire. We will not speak of this again...to anyone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the reviews and comments. Also, thanks as always to Nance for proofreading for edits, and to Sarajm and IcarusLSU for their help with beta reading and plot issues.


	17. Taking Wing

Rapid heartbeats thrummed in her ears. It didn't matter that they were her own, nor that nearly everyone else watching had the same sharp fear coursing through them. Her throat was tight as she attempted to swallow, and her mouth was dry from hanging open and gasping for breath.

Never had Mithian seen any creature so massive. He would have barely fit in the Great Hall of Nemeth, though how he would have gotten inside there didn't register in her imagination. Her eyes were bespelled by the magnificent way the sun glinted off the bronze-colored scales, and the enormous eyes that seemed to glow with magical fire.

A loud guffaw broke through her amazement, as Sebastian let loose with a full-bellied laugh. The neck undulated like a serpent as the dragon turned toward the large man.

"Haven't you drowned in a vat of ale yet?" The dragon asked Sebastian in a menacing tone.

"Nay. It'll take more than that for this world to be rid of me you pot-bellied lizard."

"Pot-bellied? I think you should look in a mirror, old man."

"If Lord Sebastian is an 'old man' then what would you call me?" King Rodor stared defiantly at the creature, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

The dragon bowed his head slightly and gave a soft chuckle. "A great man with a long life for such a limited creature. It has been many years, King Rodor. Although I never expected to meet with you again, I am pleased that you still walk this world."

"As grateful as I am to see that you have survived, as well. Many of us feared the worst when we heard that Arthur Pendragon had slain you."

She knew her father hadn't meant anything by the phrase, but she still noticed Merlin cringe. She also noted that despite being the one to have called the dragon, once her father and Lord Sebastian began speaking, he'd almost taken a step back in deference to their stations. It would take some time before he'd really accept that he wasn't a servant any longer.

Mithian squeezed his hand. She raised her voice just loud enough for the others to hear but kept her words soft and comforting. "Merlin, will you introduce me to your friend?"

Her father cast a glance her way with a small nod. Sebastian, however, glared at her for interrupting the king and the dragon, before his eyes narrowed at Merlin. She could tell he wasn't happy about something. Whether it was that Merlin hadn't taken the initiative himself or something else entirely. She moved purposely between the two men, shielding her love from his father's cousin.

The conversation she'd overheard that morning still played in her mind and she felt protective toward Merlin.

The warlock smiled, not seeming to take notice of Sebastian, or Mithian's subtle interference on his behalf. He looked at up the dragon, the fear gone once more. "Kilgharrah. This is Princess Mithian, King Rodor's daughter."

The long neck twisted and brought the gigantic snout of the dragon to just a few feet from her. If she wanted to, she could have reached out and touched it. She wondered if it would feel like metal, or scales of a serpent, or would it be surprisingly soft and warm? Bowing her head, she felt compelled to look away, but surprisingly managed to hold the dragon's gaze. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Great Dragon."

"The pleasure is all mine, Daughter of Rodor." His voice was surprising in that it was loud, and yet seemed to be kept at a perfectly pleasant level for her ears.

She finally managed to breathe again when he looked away, his attention turning back toward the king and his lords. "It appears that young Merlin here has finally come to know the truth of his family. I assume you had him summon me to prove himself."

"You are correct." Rodor nodded, grinning triumphantly. "While I hold no doubts that he is Balinor's son, you can understand the concerns of my Council, especially when my only child is concerned. It becomes not only an issue of a father wanting to find an acceptable arrangement for his daughter but one that must take into consideration the best intentions for the Kingdom of Nemeth."

"It is about time that an official match was made between Gedref and Nemeth. The two kingdoms have been allies for so long that it was inevitable. Though many believed that it would never happen after the events of the war against my kind and the Purge that followed."

She noticed how Merlin stiffened slightly and she took a moment to mull over the wording the dragon had used. It almost felt as if he'd known there would eventually be a union between Nemeth and Gedref, though Gedref hadn't been considered its own kingdom since before her father's generation. Merlin was at the center of so many with secrets that had been withheld from him. This just seemed to be another one of those instances.

Lord Travis shifted and muttered something under his breath that she didn't catch, but whatever he'd said Sebastian had seemed to hear and elbowed the other man. Lord Travis was a small man. The top of his head barely reached Mithian's chin. Despite being nearly as old as her father, his hair was still thick and as black as the day he'd been born. He claimed to have blood of the Fey in his veins, and most people believed it from his seemingly unaging features and lithe stature.

He, more than Sebastian, worried her. Had he been a king in charge of a full army, he'd have taken up arms against Camelot years ago. While he had mostly ignored Merlin during the day, she'd caught him casting suspicious glances at the young man on more than one occasion.

Mithian looked around while the dragon and her father continued to speak, trying to figure out if there was someway to possibly escape all the people; not for herself, but for Merlin. He was fading into the background again, unconsciously avoiding the attention of those he still felt outranked him. He wasn't ready to be the center of attention.

While that morning had dawned clear and bright, clouds had begun to roll in from the sea and shadow the land. As if in response to her desire, the heavens themselves seemed to give her an answer. A break in the clouds allowed shafts of sunlight to stream through, one of them alighting on an ancient castle, high in the hills above the Labyrinth that she had only heard of in bedtime stories.

The tales spoke of the place, shrouded in mystery and magic. Even though her father had known the last Lord of Gedref, he admitted that he'd only seen the castle from a distance. It was virtually inaccessible to anyone but the Dragon Lords.

"Look." She pointed to the barely perceptible ruins high on the mountain overlooking the lands. Everyone turned to see it, just as the clouds folded together again and the shaft of light disappeared.

"Ah, Castle Awyr. When the fog comes in, it can appear to be floating on clouds. I believe it is time that I took you there, Young Warlock. It is the place your father's people called home."

His shoulders slid back and he stood a little taller, as the dragon once again addressed him and not the others surrounding them all. Mithian was sure that the creature had given her a brief nod of gratitude for bringing them all back to what really mattered.

"Come, Merlin. Let me take you and your princess to the Castle in the Sky."

"I thought you weren't a horse," Merlin remarked, attempting to appear rather blasé about the situation, though Mithian could feel a tremble of excitement in their joined hands.

"I am not. However, I have no desire to wait for days for you to find the path through the mountains of your own accord."

Mithian looked over at her father as Merlin offered to help her climb up onto the back of the dragon. He scowled at her, but she could see that it was all for show. He was jealous of her having a chance to ride on a dragon to the mysterious castle. There was a hint of a smirk underneath it all. She smiled at his feigned disapproval until his attempt at a harsh, reprimanding look broke, and he laughed as well.

"Fear not, King Rodor, I will return your daughter and Merlin to Nemeth when they are ready."

Rodor inclined his head. "Thank you, Kilgharrah. I look forward to speaking with you again in the future."

She breathed a small sigh of relief that her father wasn't going to make an issue over her riding away with her love on the back of a dragon. Perhaps he already understood how deep of a bond had been forming between them. It also showed how much he trusted not only her, but Merlin as well. Or, maybe he just didn't have the courage to argue with a dragon. She doubted if she, herself, would.

Although she had been curious earlier, she was also extremely fearful of the idea of even touching the giant creature. She bit her bottom lip, suddenly afraid of how large Kilgharrah was.

Merlin seemed to have no problem with the fact that he was clambering up onto the back of such a huge creature. He stretched out his hand and called down to her. The same hand that had held her behind him when Odin's forces surrounded them. The same one that had protected her. In his eyes shone the truth. He would always protect her and keep her safe from physical harm. She silently vowed that she would do the same for his heart.

Someone snickered behind her, probably at her hesitance, but she didn't turn around. It had sounded suspiciously like Lord Travis and she was sure her father would have something to say to him outside of her earshot.

Touching the dragon, she was surprised at how smooth the scales felt. They were warm, just as she'd imagined they might be, but they also felt more metallic than anything else. Like a coin that had been held in a palm long enough to retain some of the heat.

Focusing her attention back on Merlin, she finally climbed up and sat in front of him, just behind Kilgharrah's massive head. She could ponder the feeling of the scales later. A second later, they were airborne and she let out a very unladylike squeal.

"I can't believe you just allowed your daughter to ride off without an escort. Aren't you worried that the young man will take advantage of her?" Lord Travis asked Rodor with a scowl.

It was no secret that he'd been hinting for years that he could be a match for the much younger princess. The fact that Rodor hadn't arranged it stung him. Years ago, it had been understandable. She was far too young at that time and was a very powerful pawn for the King of Nemeth. After the arrangement with Camelot fell through, Mithian had been approached by other suitors, each with their own small kingdoms and long lists of virtues. But, each had been denied.

Lord Travis was nearly the same age as Rodor, himself, despite the fact that he appeared much younger because of his heritage. Rodor relied on Travis as an ally, a bridge kept open between Nemeth and those who still followed the Old Religion faithfully. Unfortunately, he had little faith in the small man. Lord Travis was out for himself, always had been. If he'd acted as much as he spoke, Travis would have led a personal assault on Uther and Camelot years ago. There was no chance that Rodor would agree to allow his daughter to marry Travis under any circumstances.

If Travis had ever approached Rodor about one of his own son's being an eligible suitor for Mithian, the king may have considered the possibility. However, the sons were now already married to others. Each match had been carefully arranged by their father with an eye to promoting their father's status. Travis hadn't even named either of them as his heir. With the Fey blood in veins, perhaps he thought he'd outlive them both as he'd already done with their mother.

Rodor knew that if given the opportunity, Travis would wed Mithian simply to have a child who would be heir to the throne, and whom he could manipulate from the start. It was the man's ability to influence certain situations that Rodor had depended on over the years when he was unable to act due to his station. For years, Lord Travis and his ties to the people of magic had helped to keep Nemeth safe from Camelot during Uther's reign. But, that didn't mean Rodor trusted the man with his daughter.

"If anything, I believe it is young Merlin's virtue that needs protection from my daughter," he stated with a chuckle, turning back to the conversation.

Nearby, Sebastian let out a laugh and clapped the third man, Lord Bertrand, on the back. "Yer probably right there, Sire. The princess knows how to take care of herself well enough."

Bertrand rolled his eyes at the antics. He was lean man with a pinched face and often a sour demeanor, but had served Rodor well over the years. Once he had counted himself as First among Nemeth's knights and was only one of a handful of men who had battled against Camelot during the Purge and survived. Although, he had not escaped without injury as his leg had been mangled just below the knee.

Most men in his position would have lost everything after such a debilitating injury, but Rodor had instead relegated him to administration over their remaining forces after Rodor's sons had all been lost. He was a good man with a good mind for strategy, even if he could no longer ride like he used to into battle.

It had been unfortunate circumstance that Bertrand had been away, tending to his own family when Odin and Morgana had attacked. It was something Bertrand had regretted, though Rodor knew if Bertrand had been there, he would have been lost as so many others had been during that fight.

The attack had come so suddenly in the middle of the night. The magic Morgana possessed in addition to the overwhelming odds put upon them by Odin's forces, had made resistance nearly impossible. Since then, Bertrand had gone out of his way to make certain that it wouldn't happen again.

"Right you are. Now, gentleman," Rodor eyed Sebastian and Travis pointedly. "Before we return to my castle, pray tell, what is it that the two of you have been plotting recently?"

Travis sputtered indignantly, while Sebastian had the sense to look away as his laughter over the situation was quickly stolen from him. It was Bertrand's turn to share a chuckle with his king. "I do believe, Sire, that they think they were being rather covert with their recent meetings."

"Indeed," Rodor smiled and waited for one of the two men to start talking.

* * *

The path down the mountainside was always treacherous, but the rain that had begun to fall made it even more so. Leon carefully guided his mount on the worn, rut-laden road, keeping his eyes ahead of him and on the king who seemed to be taking the trail with a bit more recklessness than usual. They were only a couple of hours away from Camelot and he found himself wondering what would happen upon their return.

He turned sharply when he heard Gwaine curse and the knight's horse snort, from behind him. It seemed that dark stallion had slipped and nearly unseated the roguish knight. Despite the dangerous predicament, he had to grin at the colorful expletives that came from his friend.

"Having problems, Gwaine?"

"Only the one in front of us," came the grumbled reply.

"Careful, Gwaine, that is our king you're speaking of."

"Yeah well, he needs to start acting like it a bit more."

Leon didn't feel like trying to explain Arthur's current lack of sense. It didn't matter the reason, Arthur was his king and it wasn't as if they hadn't pushed their horses more than necessary on this particular road before. "We'll be back in Camelot soon."

"If we survive that long without Merlin around."

Biting his tongue, Leon wanted to argue. However, knowing now that his and Gwaine's suspicions of the king's manservant were true, he silently had to agree. He also knew that Gwaine's loyalty to the king was inspired by Merlin. "Why are you still with us, Gwaine?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I half-expected you to stay in Nemeth and break your vows to Arthur."

Gwaine tossed his head and scowled at the horizon as they finally reached the base of the hill, but didn't respond.

Arthur had kicked his horse into a trot and had pulled farther ahead of them. Leon quickly signaled for Elyan and Percival to try and make up the distance, while he continued at a slightly slower pace with Gwaine. "Answer me honestly, Gwaine. You have come to be like a brother to me over the years. I trust you with my life, but I also know that Merlin is the reason you became a knight to begin with. Why didn't you stay with him?"

"Because Merlin doesn't need a knight to watch him. That pompous…" Gwaine's insult was cut short by a strategically placed throat-clearing from Leon. He scoffed and shut his mouth, taking a deep breath before continuing, "I promised him I'd keep an eye on Arthur."

That Leon could believe. Although, he had to wonder if there was something more specific than just a generic desire for Arthur's well-being. Even at Merlin's insistence, Leon knew that Gwaine would be hard pressed to simply be relegated as a babysitter for a moody king. Gwaine protested even some of the most mundane and sensible orders at times, while others he would dive headfirst into with reckless abandon. "Is there anything I need to know?"

He watched as Gwaine chewed on the inside of his cheek, then shake his head. "Not at the moment."

"But, you will let me know if that changes?"

The slightly mad, roguish smile turned toward Leon with an empty promise. "Of course. Don't you trust me?"

The elder knight could only shake his head and laugh. "Do you really want me to answer that?"


	18. Panorama

He held her tightly as they took to the sky. Mithian was an amazing rider...on horseback. He could see the tightness in her grip as she clung to the large horn-like ridge that grew out of the back of Kilgharrah's head. If he hadn't been afraid of having her slide off, he'd have been more aware of the placement of his hands. As it was, though, he couldn’t complain about the close proximity. The smell of the perfume she loved so well made him smile as it teased his nostrils. She soon found her seat and began to relax. Her back rested against Merlin's chest. It didn't take long before she began to look around and enjoy the ride.

Merlin had found his greatest joy in the past during the few times he'd been privileged enough to travel with the dragon, but that paled to the pride he felt watching Mithian enjoy it.

"Everything looks so small!" She exclaimed, her voice filled with delight as she began pointing out familiar landmarks below them.

He smiled and leaned over her shoulder, the wind catching her hair and making it flutter across his face. He could sense that even Kilgharrah was enjoying the young woman's excitement of her first ride on the back of a dragon. So much so, that Merlin noticed his friend was taking a longer route than was necessary to the castle that had been spotted near the hilltop.

" _ Show off, _ " he commented silently to the dragon and felt Kilgharrah's amusement in return.

When they finally landed, it was on a large balcony that extended out beyond the cliff in a half circle. Merlin felt a sense of vertigo when he walked closer to the edge and the ornate stone railing, held up by gargoyles that allowed for water to drain from the castle out over the ledge. There was enough room on the balcony to hold at least two dragons of Kilgharrah's size. Merlin could only imagine what it had looked like during its prime. He could visualize banners and ornate decorations, perhaps even a throne in the center on a dais, close to the main wall of the castle.

The view was grand and majestic, stretching out before them in an amazing panorama. The sea to the west was dark blue. They could see the white-capped surf of the rolling tides, crashing against the rocky shores. Directing their gaze back inland was the great maze immediately below them and far in the distance, they could barely make out the turrets of Nemeth's grand castle. To the east, the hills rose up sharply through the Forest of Gedref and skirted around the Valley of Fallen Kings before joining the White Mountains at their base. On the other side of the mountains was Camelot.

A feeling of homesickness settled into Merlin's gut. He cursed at himself and the circumstances. He should be at Arthur's side, especially now. The vision Lochru had shared with him months before, still plagued his nightmares. It didn't help to know that Mordred was now a young knight, training at Arthur's side.

"As your princess, I order you to stop that this instant."

Merlin blinked in confusion. "Stop what?"

"Thinking. I warned you about it earlier," she deadpanned.

It took him a second to realize she was teasing him. He stepped brashly toward her and placed a heated kiss against her lips. There was no one around but Kilgharrah this time. Certainly no one to interrupt them and toss him in the dungeons. Just as she was melting against him, he stepped away, though, leaving her to take an unsteady step forward. A scowl blossoming across her face made Merlin laugh, realizing he could tease her just as easily.

He turned away and scanned the wall nearby, behind the raised platform for an entrance into the castle. Above the balcony, the wall rose seemingly straight up, ending in high towers that he could hardly make out from his perspective. The only reason he knew they were actually there was because he had seen them as they came into land.

"Over there," Mithian suggested, pointing to the far back corner that was shrouded in shadow. It took a moment for him to realize she had been contemplating a similar line of thought. They were both anxious to explore the ruins of the castle that now seemed to belong to him.

Gaius had mentioned a quest or something to actually obtain the title of Lord of Gedref, but as of yet, no one else had. He wondered if that was why his father hadn't returned here. It would have made sense for Balinor to return to his family’s home after he’d fled Camelot - or even Ealdor. He would have been safe from Uther and Camelot if he had. 

Maybe without a dragon, Balinor couldn't have found his way home.  Kilgharrah had been chained underneath Camelot, unable to fly.   From what had been implied earlier, it seemed the path by foot was treacherous and long at best.  The place appeared to be nearly impenetrable, so high on the mountain top.   For a moment, Merlin allowed himself to muse about what his life might have been like if Balinor had returned here and brought Hunith along.

It seemed odd to be able to think of such things, but then nothing in Merlin's life had ever been normal. His sudden relationship with a princess he'd been secretly trying to impress for the past five years certainly wasn't.

"Kilgharrah," he turned to eye the dragon, "You said something about a match between Gedref and Nemeth. The way you spoke of it sounded suspiciously like prophecy. What did you mean?"

"It is not so much a prophecy, as it is a simple understanding of the two families and how close they have been in the past. The first alliance between them was formed centuries ago when outsiders first came to Albion from across the seas. Those who settled Nemeth were among them and they were much more respectful of the way of life that was already established. It was only a matter of time before the two were finally made one full kingdom."

It made sense in an oddly mundane fashion. Merlin was beyond grateful that there wasn't some sort of supernatural workings behind his attraction to Mithian. He'd had enough of that over the past ten years with Arthur. Although, he imagined that his future with the princess was going to be far different than his career had been as a prince's, and then a king's servant.

"Merlin, come look at this!" Mithian called to him from over near the corner where she'd noticed the doors.

Making his way over to her, he rounded a pillar and stared at the large set of matching doors, ornately carved with dragons. They were grander than any of the doors in Camelot, or any other castle he'd been in and they practically hummed with magic.

"I don't see a way to open them. There's no handle, or latch, or even a keyhole."

"Stand back," Merlin said softly, mentally feeling his way around the edges. There was only one way the doors could be opened. He placed his hand against the fancy relief carvings and spoke a gentle command, " _ Aspring. _ "

He wasn't sure if Mithian could see the shimmer that glowed briefly before the doors swung outward. But, he felt her step closer, brushing against his arm, as they peered together into the shadowed room beyond. It didn't appear to be much more than an anteroom of some kind, with a massive column of stairs leading upward. As they approached the first step, sconces on either side flared to life.

"Is this whole place magical?" Mithian asked, gripping Merlin's arm.

"You know more about it than I do. I've never even heard of this castle before today."

She giggled and conceded his point. He had to wonder though, if her observation was accurate, there was a familiar feel to the entire place that seemed to call to his magic. 

 

They carefully ascended the stairs until they reached a landing where another set of double doors with similar ornate details blocked their path.  More stairs turned back parallel to the ones they had come up, but lead upward, higher into the castle. "Do we try the doors or see what's up there?"

"Let's see what's behind the doors. We can always change our mind and explore higher if there's nothing behind it."

Merlin smiled at her before placing his hand on the door and whispering the word to unlock the new door. The interior of the new space offered slightly more natural light than the landing of the stairs. Large windows were covered in dirt and grime from years of neglect, though they all seemed to be intact along the wall that faced out in the same direction as the balcony. Cleaned, they would have afforded a similar view but in less of a panorama as the open semi-circle landing had.

Long tables ran along the walls on each side of the room, moving away from the windows, toward the other end where a dilapidated throne held its place on a raised platform. Everything was undisturbed, covered in dust and cobwebs. It reminded Merlin of what Camelot's Dining Hall had looked like when Mary Collins had cast her song-spell, while wearing the guise of Lady Helen on the first night Merlin had saved Arthur's life. The main difference though was that this room had not been subjected to a spell, it was natural layers from not having seen a single soul since the days of his grandfather. Such a place should have been filled with music and gaiety as men and women feasted together, dressed in their finest.

Near the back of the room were other doors. Some, Merlin guessed were servants' corridors or antechambers, judging by the size and placements. Perhaps at least one would have once led to the kitchens, allowing food to be brought to the dining hall quickly so that the Lord's food was still piping hot when it was served. Merlin looked to the throne, half-expecting an old man, similar to the Fisher King in the Perilous Lands, sitting in the chair. But, there wasn't a single sign of life other than the occasional spider lazily adding to the layers of silk across extinguished candelabras and empty place settings.

Castle Awyn, at least this one room, held so many shadows of what it had once been.  He didn't know if it had been decades ago, or centuries. " This is a sad place.  I wouldn't know where to begin, if I'm supposed to make it my own,”  he remarked, flinching as his voice seemed to carry throughout the room.

Mithian shrugged. "Perhaps we should come back and explore another time. I'm sure my father and the others have returned to Nemeth by now, and we should join them and you can discuss with him how best to proceed."

With a last look of longing across the room, Merlin followed her back down to the balcony landing. When they emerged, he was slightly confused to see that Kilgharrah wasn't where they had left him. Sending out a mental projection, Merlin felt the Great Dragon still nearby, awaiting the Dragon Lord's call.

The sky began to change as the sun dropped between the clouds and the sea, casting bright rays of oranges and pinks. Merlin stared in awe, only glancing down when Mithian put her arms around him and laid her head against his chest to watch the sunset.

"It's beautiful."

In that moment, everything was perfect. It didn't matter that Arthur was out of reach and beyond Merlin's protection. Nor that the castle was a sad visage of what it had once been. It seemed as if the gods themselves had accepted the change in Merlin's destiny. "Eh, it's alright," he said.

"Just 'alright'? Tell me, what could be more beautiful than this sunset?"

He smiled and tipped her chin up to look at him. He answered with a long, lingering kiss that stole her breath away. Merlin felt a wave of giddiness fill him when she pressed her body closer. Her slender curves fitting almost perfectly against him.

Velvety brown tendrils of hair had escaped the pristine styling during the flight to the ruins of the castle. His calloused hands lingered in the silky soft texture; fingertips brushing her hair back, as he continued to kiss her. He felt her hands touching his hips, gripping the cloth of his trousers.

A familiar stirring in his body seemed to grow each time he held her. Merlin began to move her backward, stepping her slowly toward the raised platform at the center, and then gently pushing her down until she was laid out across it and her body was blanketed by his own. His hands rested on the stone on either side of her head as he kissed with even more passion. Opening his mouth and teasing his tongue along her lips until she gasped and he pressed in, exploring and tasting.

Gods how he wanted her. He could take her right now and there was no one to stop him!  It gave him a feeling of total exhilaration, unlike anything he had ever experienced.   He felt as he was making up for time he’d lost during his years following Arthur, living outside of himself in some surreal dream.

" _ While I have no qualms about you claiming the Princess Mithian as your mate, her father might have a different feeling on the matter, Young Warlock." _

Kilgharrah's intrusion into Merlin's mind startled him and he suddenly seemed aware of just how far he'd been willing to go. "Mithian..." he gasped breathlessly. "We can't... I'm sorry... I didn't mean..."

She kissed him quickly, effectively curtailing his stuttering. "I didn't either. Well, I sort of did, since I was the one to kiss you first the other night. But you're right. We really shouldn't push our luck yet."

They laughed in nervous embarrassment, sitting up and attempting to straighten their disheveled clothes. Merlin then wrapped his arm around her shoulders, happy just to hold her as they watched outcrops of rocks and small islands offshore become silhouetted as the sun burned it’s last light before disappear into the western horizon.

"I think we should get married as soon as possible," Mithian announced out of the blue.

"Yeah," he responded dreamily, until her words sunk in. "What?!"  He wanted to marry her, but the suddenness of her declaration caught him off-guard. Even Kilgharrah, who had landed quietly nearby cocked his head in curious amusement.

"Hear me out. The sooner we are wed, the less chance of..." her eyes shifted toward the platform meaningfully before coughing softly. "Also, when we are wed, Lord Travis will have to abandon his idea that there might be a chance of a union between him and me."

"Lord Travis?" His mouth hung open in confusion.  He could understand the implied portion of what she’d said.  The sooner they were married, the sooner he could continue living this dream.  However, he hadn’t even thought about any of King Rodor’s advisors since he and Mithian had flown off.  He barely recalled even meeting Lord Travis.

Mithian cringed. "Of course, I don't suppose you would know anything about that. He's been trying for years, especially since I returned from Camelot unmarried, to convince my father that he would make a perfect husband for me. Between that and what I overheard from him and Lord Sebastian this morning..." She sighed as her words trailed off.

"Mithian? What did you hear?"

"It was probably nothing. I didn't even hear that much. They were talking about Arthur and Sebastian was asking if it was too late to stop someone called Disir now that you have been recognized."

At this, Kilgharrah became increasingly interested in the conversation. Merlin felt the way the Great Dragon's head moved closer to listen.  He got the feeling that there was a deeper meaning to what Mithian had overheard.  "Kilgharrah, who is this Disir?"

"I have not heard that name for many years. The Disir are three women who were chosen at birth to be the mouthpiece of the Triple Goddess during times of great change and upheaval."

Merlin stiffened. He'd heard about such beings from Gaius, but never knew what they were called. Briefly, he recalled a random conversation with his mentor from years before about such heralds having appeared prior to Uther's reign. Then, there was the griffin who had been summoned not long after Merlin had arrived in Camelot. He hadn't given the half-bird, half-lion creature much thought after he and Lancelot had defeated it, but looking back he could see that was around the time Arthur had begun to change and grow as a man.

It had taken years for that change to come about. Merlin felt, however, that this time the arrival of such beings wouldn't take as long to manifest.  "I shouldn't have let Arthur ride away without me."

"Well, he didn't give you much of a choice, did he?" Mithian snapped out.

His eyes rose to look at her. In her face, he could see fear, despite the bitter tone. They had just found each other and if he had followed Arthur home, he wouldn't have been here now with her. "No. He didn't," he admitted. "I'm sorry. My destiny... I haven't known how to be or do anything else for so long. Arthur has been my sole duty - my entire life. I'm not sure if I know how to be anything other than his servant, much less a possible husband to a future queen."

Her expression softened. She reached up and cupped his cheek in her hand. "All the more reason for us to make our union official as soon as we can."

"Why is that?"

"Well, if you do need to go to Camelot, then as my consort, you would be a subject of Nemeth. You could go there as an ambassador of sorts, in an official capacity. Anything Arthur might do to you would be considered a breach of the treaty with Nemeth."  

Merlin laughed at her reasoning. "I'd be there to protect him and you would declare war on Camelot if he hurt me in any way?"

"If it came to that, yes." She held her chin high, firm in her reasoning.

He floundered for a response. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever imagined someone willing to start a war on his behalf. He was stunned and flattered, but also a bit scared that she would be willing to engage in battle against Camelot for one man. Of course, knowing Mithian from having watched her for years, he knew that she would try peaceful negotiations first

There was also the fact that he hadn't yet thought about how he was going to approach Mithian, or her father, for her hand in marriage. He felt a bit slighted that he was now being denied that opportunity. His ego told him that he should have been the one to ask her and the one to figure out how to be in both places at once, not the other way around. Although her phrasing wasn't in the form a question, merely a statement of fact, there was a certain romance that was lost in the decision. "Wow. I don't know what to say. I mean, I thought I was supposed to be the one to ask you to marry me and be there to protect you."

Mithian blushed, the fading pinks in the sky reflecting off the heat that colored her cheeks when she realized what he meant. "I'm sorry, I just thought…"

He kissed her lightly to stop her from apologizing further, laughing silently at her discomfort. "It's alright, I accept." Then, came a thought that sent his bridled passion of the moment fleeing. "However, since we seem to be doing this backward, you should probably ask my mother for permission first."

She stiffened and the blood drained from her face. It was obvious that Mithian hadn't even considered Merlin's mother in her plans.

"Don't worry," Merlin chuckled. "I'm sure she'll love you. Well, mostly sure. Probably. Actually, I don't know how she's going to react."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you may have noticed an update earlier for this chapter, then that it was deleted. I had some major issues with accidently posting the wrong thing. You can find the whole explanation in the rambling ANs on the fanfiction.net posting. Thank you all for reading and all the wonderful kudos and comments! Love you all! Happy Solstice!


	19. Disbelief

 

Discarded armor laid in a heap on the floor next to the table. He'd tried to stack it as he removed it, but the mound had slid off the table, collapsing on the stones below. The only thing left on the polished wood surface was the sword. Staring at it from across the room, he wished he knew the true story behind it, not the lies he'd been fed by Merlin.

He never understood some of his manservant's odd quirks. There were times when Merlin would seem so wise, yet he always played such a buffoon. Tripping over himself. Making senseless commentary that confused anyone within earshot. That was it, he thought. Merlin only played the idiot.

'Merlin has m...' Uther's ghost had tried to tell him the truth. He refused to see it, even when it was right in front of his face. Merlin had admitted to it, even before it had become obvious. Why had Arthur been so daft not to see it? He liked Merlin. Despite Uther's attempts to keep the social lines drawn between them, Merlin had been his friend.

The stone around the window felt cool against his forehead as he turned away from the sword and all the questions it raised. He stared absently out through the colored glass. From below, or even back further in the room, he could see the designs that were created when the different panes came together. Up close, he only saw a few at a time and he could choose which one to cast his eyes through.

Merlin had been too close. So close that Arthur had been unable to see the full pattern. Merlin had been too close ... so close that Arthur had been unable to see the full pattern. Even from the copse of trees, that last final glimpse of the man he thought he'd known had been so different. Looking across the way, Arthur saw the artwork apparent in other windows. Why had he never noticed them before?

Guinevere had met him at the steps of the castle when he'd arrived earlier that evening. She had smiled and kissed him gently, but didn't ask about Merlin. He could tell that she wanted to, but whatever Gaius had told her seemed to be enough to placate her into not overreacting at his former servant's absence.

Merlin was gone. Arthur had pushed him away ... or had Merlin simply walked away from him? It was all so convoluted. The entire situation could have been avoided if either one of them had been willing to open up. Arthur could have opened his eyes, or Merlin could have opened his mouth. When they were both finally forced into doing so, their final words and actions against each other had been disastrous.

He heard the door to the bedchamber open and close. Light footfalls moved closer to his position, but he didn't turn around. A clatter of steel, mixed with leather and cloth gave him a soft chuckle through his despair.

"Really, Arthur? You should know better than to leave your armor lying on the floor."

His Guinevere was ever the blacksmith's daughter, admonishing him on the care of his effects. He thought he'd hear her picking up the pieces and setting them right, as she had done many times in the past whenever Merlin wasn't around. But, he startled when she put her arms around him from behind and nestled her head between his shoulder blades. Rubbing her arm absently, they stood together for some time. She knew him so well. When to push and when to just let be.

"We'll probably be receiving a wedding invitation soon, I would imagine," he finally said.

Her head lifted and she moved to his side where she could see his face. "You really think so?"

He answered with a hum and a shrug.

"Gaius didn't tell me that. He said that Merlin had been sending her gifts and that King Rodor seemed to know about Merlin's family."

"What else did he tell you?"

Guinevere stepped to the side so that she could look at him. "Not much. He has been rather exhausted from the journey and, I suspect, by the events. Did he and Merlin have a falling out?"

Arthur paused. He felt a bit of irritation that his wife seemed more concerned with an estrangement between the physician and Merlin, rather than hearing about the altercation he'd experienced. "I don't know. I do know that when I was speaking with… He threatened me. It was unacceptable."

Her mouth fell open in surprise and she took a step back. "Merlin threatened you?"

He blew out through puffed cheeks and resisted the urge to rake his fingers over his scalp. How could he explain to her what he had discovered; how the conversation had turned from him asking about Merlin's father to the servant's admission of truth, and Merlin's promise that he'd be in danger? Arthur couldn't very well give her all the details when so much was still clouded in mystery. "It's more than that. He has magic, Guinevere."

The queen pursed her lips and turned away.

"You knew?" He pushed off the window and faced his wife.

"No, I didn't," she sighed and waved her hand in the air. "There were times when I suspected something, but it wasn't until Gaius was telling me about what had happened that I put it together. He didn't say anything about Merlin actually having magic specifically. Oh, Arthur, what are you going to do?"

"Do?" He felt his temper beginning to rise. "What can I do? I tried to run him through with a sword and he stopped me without even speaking a word! Just raised his hand like some sort of demon!"

"You tried to kill him?" Disbelief was written across her face. She was shaking her head in confusion and concern.

"He used magic!"

"Arthur, he has been your best friend for so long. How could you?"

"Didn't you hear me? He used magic!" His arms flailed wildly with rage. How could he get her to understand?

"Of course, I heard you, and I am concerned about that. But seriously? Why would you have done that?" she shouted back at him. "He is your friend, Arthur! Even if he does have magic, when has he ever done anything to harm you?"

Arthur reeled back in the face of his wife's anger. Had everyone suspected but him? No. Percival and Elyan were just as shocked when they found out. What all had he missed? Pouting, he turned back to the window and barely held back his desire to shatter the stained glass panes. They represented the pieces of the larger picture he'd refused to see, and he wanted to see them fall - broken and shattered - just as he felt.

Guinevere moved back closer to him. Her gentle hand wrapped around his arm and she laid her head against his shoulder. Her presence comforted him and he felt his anger melting away into sadness.

"He's a Dragon Lord... a nobleman's son and a sorcerer. He kept it all from me, Guinevere. Why didn't he tell me?" Tears began to cloud his vision, causing the colors of the windows to blur and run together. The words he spoke echoed the ones he had told his knights and he wasn't sure if he truly believed them anymore now than he did when he first said them.

His shoulders sagged in exhaustion and her arms pulled him in, grounding him and giving him a place to release his emotions safely.

It had taken some time before Arthur found himself able to concentrate once more. Guinevere, his amazing wife and queen, had comforted him, allowing him time to finally come to terms with all that had happened. He'd explained, in more detail than he had initially desired, nearly everything that had happened in Nemeth from the moment he'd suspected Merlin of sending letters to a princess. Gwen had sympathized with him for the way he had been blindsided by Rodor's questioning, but chuckled and admonished him for how oblivious he had been to all of Merlin's idiosyncrasies. They had stayed up nearly all night exchanging anecdotes about some of the more peculiar events that could now be linked to the former servant.

"I'm going to miss him," Arthur finally admitted.

"Why can't he come back?"

"You know why."

"Arthur, you have changed so much. The kingdom has thrived like never before under your rule." She squeezed his hand reassuringly. "The only thing stopping you from changing things is you."

"But this is different. This isn't just about the magic. There is so much he has hidden from me. Yes, I know it was for my own good, as you have already reminded me, but I can't just let it all go. What kind of king would I be? I could just do away with everything my father stood for against magic, and I have considered it even before this. Then, I think about all the pain it has brought. Even I have not been immune to the temptations of magic. I am just like my father in that way — using it for my own selfish means when it suited me. Look at Morgana and all the pain she has caused because of it. How could I make an exception for just one man because I consider him a friend when there are so many others out there who would use it to their advantage?"

"Give it time, Arthur. You'll find a way. We will figure this out together, but not tonight." Her statement was punctuated by a yawn. "Come to bed. A good night's sleep will do us both good."

* * *

"When your father was around...ten, I would say, he was an utter terror! Nay! He was always a hell-spawned swine."

King Rodor laughed at the serious look on Sebastian's face. Meanwhile, Merlin just nodded his head in amusement. "Really, Lord Sebastian, I think young Merlin here was asking for some more enlightening tales of Balinor."

"There ain't nothing more enlightening than hearing the truth about a man. Even if he was a worthless maggot, mind you." Sebastian had been partaking freely of the wine being passed around in celebration of Merlin's discovered heritage and it was beginning to take effect. "He knew I loved apples back then, absolutely loved them. Now, I can hardly even stand the smell, much less the sight of them. All because of that fuckin' cousin of mine - your father!"

Merlin had completely lost count of the insulting names his newly-found cousin used to describe Balinor. His eyes darted nervously over to Mithian, who seemed to be ignoring the boorish man sitting next to her father. It really came as no surprise that among Rodor's Court, Sebastian was the true master of belching from whom Mithian had learned her skill. Initially, Merlin had reservations about the man, worried that revealing himself would bring to light another enemy; this one more personal than those he had faced for Arthur. Thankfully, that had not been the case as the events unfolded. However, he wasn't sure exactly what Mithian had seen, other than the drinking and love for apples that reminded her of Gwaine.

"...There I was, just sittin' down for a bite to eat. Mind you, I had been training all morning, and had completely neglected my breakfast! On the table was the most glorious apple I had ever laid my eyes upon! It was big and firm and juicy - about the size of that wench if you understand me." A thick finger, caked with dirt under the nail, pointed towards a serving woman down the table.

Blushing, Merlin quickly dropped his gaze when he realized he'd actually looked to see what Sebastian was indicating. Alright, maybe Gwaine was a younger, more suave version of Sebastian.

"I reached for it and right before my eyes, it started moving. I'd never seen an apple move of its own accord, mind you!"

"I can imagine." Merlin had used his magic on more than one occasion to distract Arthur, or the guards, or simply just because he could. So, he wasn't surprised to find out that his father had used the same magic. Despite Rodor's annoyance at Sebastian's choice of tales, Merlin was finding stories of his troublemaking father to be quite entertaining. For the first time in his life, he had a sense of who Balinor had been.

"So's, I go pick up this glorious piece of fruit, despite what I thought I saw, and again! It begins to rock and wiggle. Sure as shite, it wiggles right out of my hand! Now, I'm thinking that maybe if I was drunk it would all make sense, you understand, but I was sober as the day I was born. Next thing I know, this fucking huge beetle crawls out of it! Scared the daylights out of me! I'm not ashamed to say, I screamed like a fuckin' girl. Then, I hear that little fuck that was your father laughing his way down the hall."

Merlin's grin widened, not at the thought of Sebastian screaming - though that was an entertaining thought - but of what he could do to Gwaine in the future. His face fell instantly as memories of his life in Camelot came back to him and he wondered if he would ever see Gwaine again.

While it had barely been a day and a half since he and Arthur parted ways, it really felt like a lifetime. So much had happened. He could barely wrap his head around it all. The fact that he was sitting at the Royal Table was just the tip of the sword. It took all of his willpower to not reach for the pitcher of wine and refill everyone's goblets. He'd been sipping on the wine himself and felt the effects of the less watered down variety that was being served more often as the night wore on.

The laughter subsided and in the lull between conversations, Merlin found his mind wandering. Had Arthur made it back to Camelot safely? Was he still seething over the lies? Or had Gwen been able to talk sense into him? Although, Merlin wasn't sure what she could do to help the situation.

Magic was illegal in Camelot. That fact hadn't changed in nearly thirty years. Since Uther had died and Morgana's last attempt at Camelot's throne had failed, true sorcerers seemed to have avoided being seen with Camelot's borders. There were still a few occasions where one or two would cause trouble in outlying villages. However, it was rare, and they typically disappeared to the safety of other kingdoms before they could be apprehended.

Arthur was much more lenient than his father had been when charges that were brought against people using magic. Quite a few times in recent years, Arthur had declared the accused to be innocent and proclaimed them to be a druid, whether they were or not. Those incidents were small and usually involved some minor charm or a healing spell.

But, Arthur knew Merlin. He knew his former manservant wasn't a druid — as did most of the people in Camelot. There wouldn't be any possible way the king could use that excuse for Merlin…if Arthur even allowed him back into the kingdom.

He flinched as something bounced off his forehead, shattering his deep contemplation. His eyes darted around, but didn't see anyone who might have thrown something at him - that was until he caught Mithian purposefully avoiding his gaze.

For a future queen, she had a surprisingly ornery streak; subtle for sure, but it was there. Before he could return the favor of being pelted by what he assumed was the cherry pit that now sat on the table in front of him, Mithian turned to her father and began whispering. Merlin wasn't about to interrupt her when she was speaking to the king. His eyebrows pinched together while his mind swarmed with ideas of how he could exact his revenge later.

King Rodor glanced his way, smiling and nodding as he listened to whatever his daughter was saying. With a broad grin, the man stood up and called for the attention of the Great Hall.

"Noble friends, I want to thank you all for attending the feast tonight. While the main reason for this celebration is to honor and acknowledge Merlin Emrys, the son of Balinor of Gedref, there is an announcement I would like to make. My daughter's hand has been sought by many, and I had yet to find a suitor whom I felt would be able to not only handle the demands of the kingdom at the future queen's side, but also be capable of keeping my daughter happy."

Now, he knew what Mithian had been whispering to her father and Merlin paled when he heard the words. His heart fluttered in anticipation while his throat closed and his stomach felt filled with lead. When Mithian had brought up the proposal of marriage earlier that evening, he hadn't realized that her idea of 'as soon as possible' was meant almost literally. He had to remind himself to breathe.

Perhaps this was just an announcement of intention. He doubted, or more like hoped, that he'd have a bit longer to prepare for his own union. Merlin had actually planned to speak with Rodor about it, but had wanted to wait until the following day, or perhaps even the one after.

He felt Sebastian elbowing him and the surreal quality of the situation suddenly sharpened into focus. "You're expected to say something, boy."

Licking his lips, Merlin tried to smile. Through clenched teeth, he muttered to the boorish man, "I have no idea what to say." This was mad. The whole thing was mad, as he'd once told Arthur when speaking about marriage and nobility. Yes, he loved her, but this wasn't at all how he'd dreamed the situation would play out.

A grunting chuckle accompanied Sebastian's hand clamping down on Merlin's arm as his father's cousin stood up and pulled Merlin with him. "As Lord Balinor's first cousin and only other living blood, I would speak for this young man and accept your offer to join the House of Emrys, Lords of Dragons and Stewards over the lands of Gedref, with the noble line of the Kingdom of Nemeth."

No, this was certainly not at all how it was supposed to happen. But, Merlin found himself grateful that Sebastian had given a formal answer in his place. Oh, how Arthur would have berated him; called him a girl or an idiot. Or, perhaps he would have laughed and taken great pleasure in finally finding a way to render Merlin totally speechless.

Across the tables, Lord Travis was shooting daggers at Merlin through his piercing eyes. A rebellious fire sparked in Merlin. He couldn't let Travis find any reason to dispute the king's proposal. The slimy little man reminded him of Arthur's Uncle Agravaine. Under normal circumstances, Merlin would have narrowed his eyes and watched the man carefully, looking for any sign of subterfuge. He already knew that Sebastian and Travis were working together on some situation with the Disir that Kilgharrah had told him about. Yet, Sebastian now seemed to have had a change of heart, or at least he had distanced himself from Lord Travis for the night.

Maybe it had something to do with Kilgharrah's arrival earlier that day. He didn't know. King Rodor, and more importantly, Mithian, were waiting for Merlin to say something. They all were. He hated being the center of attention. Around one or two people who he knew, Merlin could smile and be his carefree self. However, after ten years in Camelot, he'd taught himself how to be an obedient — if still somewhat mouthy — servant.

Gwen had remarked once that if it hadn't been for the tutelage she'd received after initially agreeing to marry Arthur, she wouldn't have had the courage to speak out in public. Merlin knew that was partly a lie. He'd heard how she'd stood up to Agravaine when the Doracha were assaulting the lands and had made him see that closing the gates would have brought a worse disaster than Camelot had already been facing. She was passionate about the people she knew and cared about. She had always been fair and spoke gently to both noble and commoner alike. But, she had also been around all types of people for her entire life in the great city.

Merlin had grown up in a small village of no more than fifty people at any given time. He'd known all of them and managed to find enough trouble with his friend Will to fill any boy's needs. The rare occurrence of a noble passing through was nothing to him, as they typically sought out the leader of the village before moving on.

Camelot had been a wake-up call for him. The few people he felt comfortable enough around to be himself, for the most part, he could count on two hands. Even then, he kept them all at arm's length because of his secret. He'd learned early on to never question Arthur outside of their private interactions or when they were with the knights. He'd also been taught how not to address a room full of nobles. The times he had were extremely unpleasant and usually landed him the stocks or the dungeons.

Merlin wanted desperately to speak with Mithian in private about this whole marriage idea, but he'd been put on the spot. Rodor was waiting for an answer. Everyone was waiting. Sebastian had set the stage and helped segue into Merlin's response. How would Arthur have responded in his position? He tried to think; to imagine himself as actually being a noble, even if he still felt out of place. Looking everywhere, his eyes finally settled on the woman who was waiting more than any of the others for his answer.

She gave him a tiny nod of encouragement behind a tight-lipped smile, trying not to appear too eager.

"Your Majesty," he finally began, forcing his voice past the constriction in his throat. "I would be honored to accept."

The audience roared with cheers and applause. A minstrel, who had performed quietly through most of the feast, burst out in a jovial song. The room spun as Merlin was jostled about until he found himself face-to-face with his intended. Her smile lit up the room and brought his vision into focus. His hand trembled as he reached for hers and kissed it lightly.

"Let it be known!" King Rodor's voice rose above the excited masses. "Three days hence, my daughter and heir to the Kingdom of Nemeth, the Princess Mithian, will be joined in matrimony to the newly named Lord of Gedref, Merlin Emrys."

Three days? Merlin blinked, wondering if he'd heard the king correctly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the last chapter took so long to get the final, postable draft out, I figured I'd get this one out much quicker. It helps that I'd been sitting on this one for a while hehe. Thank you for all the understanding, encouragement and reviews. Your responses are what truly makes this story special!
> 
> Special thanks to Doberler for stepping up and giving some awesome flow suggestions, Sarajm for plot help and feedback, and to Nance for her wonderful proofreading, also over on the Writing.Whimicalwanderings.net posting of the story is a special treat in the form of a graphic at the end of chapter 18 made by the amazingly talented wil1969 that was inspired by that last chapter. Or you can check out all her great graphics and pics on deviantart. And, Lyricalsinger wrote a nice, little, expanded scene based on the garden scene in chapter 13 with my full blessing.


	20. Fatherly Advice

 

"Well, he's gone."

Rodor looked up from his breakfast at the man who had interrupted him without thought to protocol. "Who would that be, Lord Sebastian?"

"Travis." He plopped himself down on a nearby chair without an invitation.

Bertrand 'hmphed' across the table from Sebastian. "It doesn't surprise me."

"Nor I," Rodor agreed. "I was actually quite surprised he'd stayed for the feast last night. Especially after he couldn't seem to give me a straight answer about the plans the two of you were contriving." He hid a smirk at the way Sebastian squirmed at the reminder.

Neither man had been straightforward with the king when he'd questioned them the previous afternoon. Sebastian had amazingly kept his mouth shut and allowed Lord Travis to dig his own grave on the matter until Rodor was thoroughly confused by it all. Instead of demanding clarification then and there, the king had decided it would be better to ride back to Nemeth and discuss the situation after his daughter and Merlin returned.

He was grateful that Travis had left, but it also concerned him. The man had scowled at Merlin when the proposal for marriage had been announced. It wasn't as if Rodor had ever led him along or given any indication that he might eventually consider a union between the man and his daughter. It was true that Mithian's mother had been much younger than Rodor when they were wed, but Travis was nearly the same age as Rodor, himself.

Sebastian stared at the plates in front of the king and Bertrand, piled high with succulent meats and fruits. Rodor sensed that the man was hoping for an invitation to break his fast with them. However, one thing he'd learned about Sebastian over the years was that the man could easily be controlled by how empty his stomach was. "When do you assume he left?"

"I believe it was just shortly after you sent out riders with the invitations that he took off. My guess is he wanted to get home before the herald arrived."

"I see. Sebastian, I think it's time you filled me in on what the two of you were speaking of yesterday? I have a feeling it has been something in the works for some time now."

The large man gave a sound the was somewhere between a groan and a sigh. "It wasn't us who set it in motion, but someone out there did. They woke up the Disir."

Bertrand's fork dropped onto his plate. "What do you mean?!"

Rodor held out his hand to calm Bertrand. It had been decades since the women who served as the mouthpiece of the Triple Goddess had been called. If Rodor wasn't mistaken, it had been when the Dragon Lords had declared war against Camelot under Ambrosias' reign. He recalled speaking with the Lord of Gedref about it, just before Balinor came to live in Nemeth. Myrrdin was only one of a handful of Dragon Lords who were resisting following their brethren into battle. The Disir had warned the Dragon Lords that they would all perish if they took arms against Ambrosias and what would follow would change Alboin forever. Sadly, even those who resisted were hunted down and slaughtered. The only reason Myrrdin survived was because Uther and his followers couldn't reach Castle Awyr.

The king hadn't even thought about the Disir and their judgment for many years after that. He'd been saddened when he heard Ambrosias had died. They had fought together against Vortigern and his Saxons. Now that he thought about it, he wondered if Uther was the punishment sent out from the Disir to try and save the Old Religion. The King of Camelot had used sorcerers and other followers of the Triple Goddess to destroy nearly all of the dragons. Not long after Uther declared victory, Myrrdin suffered a heart attack, leaving the entire legacy of the Dragon Lords to his teenage son.

Peace fell over the lands, at least until Queen Ygraine died. Rodor wondered if the Triple Goddess and Her Disir had seen that coming. Uther turned on the magic users who had once supported him against the Dragon Lords. They were dark times, to be sure.

"It doesn't matter who summoned them. All that matters now is finding out who they have turned their sights on, and why." Rodor gazed at Sebastian, waiting for him to continue.

"Same as last time: Camelot." He was finally rewarded when Rodor pushed his plate toward him. Sebastian wasted no time in stabbing a sausage and biting into it. His words were muffled as he spoke around the meat. "Supposedly, they're planning on making King Arthur accountable for his father. Travis only told me th' day before yesterday. He thought that as Balinor's kin I'd be symp'thetic to the cause. I was until you sent word about Merlin. I argued a bit with Travis yesterday morn'. But, he said that once the Disir are summoned, no one can stop them."

Rodor wasn't convinced "Do you think he had a hand in calling them forth?"

Sebastian shook his head. "If he did, he didn't say anything to me on that."

"We should probably tell Lord Merlin about this," Lord Bertrand suggested. "He was King Arthur's manservant for the past decade. Maybe by questioning him, we can find out why the Disir would be keen on persecuting Arthur. In the meantime, I will start preparations of the troops and look into making certain Nemeth's stores are filled. After Odin's attack, we can't afford to be caught unaware if we are on the verge of another magical war."

Rodor nodded his agreement. He was getting too old for this. Prior to Odin and Morgana's assault, his own physician had given him some rather unsettling news. Sadly, the man had died in the attack, before anything more could be discovered. Rodor mourned for him, but had also thought about asking Gaius to examine the issue after the feast for Arthur and his men. Then, of course, the entire situation had taken an unexpected turn and Camelot's physician had left with his king before Rodor could confide in him.

He watched silently as Sebastian finished clearing his plate. "I want you to go find your young cousin. He should be with my manservant and the tailor, preparing for the wedding. Find out anything you can about Arthur and why this would be happening now."

Sebastian wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and nodded. He stood up and bowed before heading off.

Rodor shook his head and chuckled. Nearly forty decades as a noble lord and the man had yet to learn how to use a napkin.

* * *

He'd slept. Oh, had he slept. It didn't matter that he still hadn't managed to get comfortable on the elaborate bed fit for royalty. No, the straw pallet on the floor near the hearth was fine, just as it had always been. He had taken an extra blanket off the bed, however, and had managed to completely bury himself inside of it. So much so in fact, that when King Rodor's manservant had come into Merlin's chambers early that morning, he'd thoroughly missed the bundle on the floor when looking for Merlin.

The past few days had left Merlin totally exhausted. When he'd finally found his way to his chambers after the feast the night before, the wine he'd imbibed had gone straight to his head and kept him from thinking about anything seriously before passing out. His dreams had been amazing, what snippets he could recall - he and Mithian dancing together in the gardens of Camelot. The fully awake version of Merlin hadn't a clue how to dance to anything but a simple peasant's dance circle. He was grateful that his footwork hadn't mattered inside the dream. Merlin had chuckled silently as the man left and he quickly found himself back in the arms of sleep.

He had no idea how much longer he'd slept after that when he was awakened once more, this time by Lord Sebastian's voice in his room.

"Where in the hell could he have got to?" The older man grumbled and cursed.

Merlin was just about to reveal himself, knowing that he probably should let someone know where he was, when he heard Sebastian call out to someone else.

"Have you seen that boy of yours?"

"By 'boy', I assume you are referring to Merlin?" Mithian's voice responded in a cheeky tone.

Merlin quickly bit his tongue, while managing to stay as still as possible under the pile of covers. The last thing he needed was for his intended to find him on the floor when her father had been gracious enough to provide him a room with an actual bed. Embarrassment flooded through him and he was glad that she couldn't see him.

"No, I have not seen him yet today. I was actually coming in here to find him."

Sebastian grunted in dismay. Heavy footsteps began to make their way around the room until they were inches from his head. He worried that he'd been found when he heard Sebastian let out a huff that sounded close to a chuckle. The feet moved a few feet away and Merlin heard a chair, rather close to his makeshift den, creak and groan as the large man plopped down into it.

"Aren't you going to look for him?" Mithian asked from near the door.

"Well, I figured you would be doing that, Princess. I'll just wait here to see if he returns first."

"Lord Sebastian…" she began to protest.

"No sense in us both out searching. He knows where he's staying. If he comes back before you find him, I'll pass on word that you're looking. You can do the same if you do track him down. Oh, don't get that look on your face."

"What look?"

"It's not like he'd run off without telling you. He's probably just exploring and avoiding your father's servant. Merlin's been a servant for a lot of years, from what I understand. He knows the drill. Trust me, if he did run off before the wedding, I'll personally drag him back to you by whatever means necessary."

"I doubt that would be required, My Lord."

Shrugging and shifting his weight, the chair protested against the movement. "Go on, now. Go find your boy."

Merlin could only imagine that Mithian had rolled her eyes at the older man before leaving and closing the door behind her.

"She's gone. You can come out now. Though why you decided to hide in a laundry pile on the floor, I'll never know. Quite ingenious if I do say so. Mind you, I might have to try it some time."

Slowly, Merlin emerged from the pile, cheeks flushed with shame for being caught sleeping on the floor. His breath was shaky as he sat up and he stared at his feet, unsure if he should make eye contact with his father's cousin. "Thank you for not letting her know I was here."

"Eh, seems to me you were hiding for a reason. Bed not comfy enough for ya?"

"Too much so. I've never slept on anything like it in my life," Merlin admitted reluctantly.

"Yeah, some of them just don't get that. King Rodor would. Same as me and Bertrand. We've lived in tents on the battlefield before and know how accustomed a person can become. Took me a while after The Purge to even think about getting settled in a real bed."

"You fought against Camelot during the Purge?" Merlin asked, suddenly more interested in who the man was.

"Aye. Saw a lot of good people die during that time. Ones that never got a chance to go home to their own beds, much less ones so fancy."

Sebastian fell silent, his thoughts appeared to be wandering down through the past. Meanwhile, Merlin looked to the bed, filled with guilt for not really given it a chance.

"You know, when you're married, I doubt if Her Majesty is going to want to sleep on the floor in a pile of straw."

Merlin scoffed, "Married…"

"Having second thoughts?"

"No!" he said immediately. "No. Never. I want to marry her. Really, I do."

"You don't have to convince me, boy." Sebastian's belly shook as he chuckled. "Why don't you come up off the floor and sit in this other chair so we can have a real talk."

Merlin shuffled to his feet and moved to the chair opposite Sebastian. His head was pounding with the remnants of having drank too much the night before and his stomach felt a bit queasy with the movement. He'd been fine while he was still on the floor with his back to the windows. Oh, how he wished Gaius was there with the foul tasting hangover cure in hand. Merlin rarely had a chance to drink anything but the really watered down wine that was standard fare for servants. When the stronger alcohol was served in abundance for feasts, he not only refilled Arthur's cup, but usually ended up babysitting a drunken king, as well.

"You are a bit of a lightweight. Eh, well, being a part of the noble class will change that for you soon enough, I suppose." Sebastian snickered at Merlin's discomfort.

"Uncomfortable beds and lots of wine. Marriage is looking better already."

Sebastian roared and pulled a vial out of his belt pouch. The color of the liquid inside it made Merlin cringe, but he hoped it was what he thought it was. When the older man uncorked it and handed it over, Merlin was sure he recognized the familiar, foul odor. He took it and downed the contents without even hesitating.

"I've studied medicine with Gaius for ten years. Although, that didn't taste nearly as bad as the stuff he makes. I think he adds some extra mugwort to it in order to make it even more bitter tasting," he explained when Sebastian gave him a surprised look.

Accepting the reasoning, Sebastian took the vial back and stowed it away in his pouch. "What's really on your mind then about this?"

"It's just," he started, trying not to stumble over his words, "I just… never thought it would be me. I'm a servant; not a noble to be waited on or put on a pedestal or allowed to sleep in the beds. I've lost everything I knew and yet gained things I can't even begin to comprehend. This wasn't supposed to be my life. The most important secrets I kept have been exposed. I've lost my best friend and the destiny I was bound to seems to be slipping away." He wasn't sure why he was trying to explain himself to a man he barely knew. Perhaps it was that they were related, or maybe it was the remnants of the hangover, but for the time being, he felt comfortable in Sebastian's presence.

"You sound just like your father," he muttered flatly.

Merlin's eyes lifted to meet Sebastian's. He couldn't tell if what had been said was a compliment or an insult. It could have easily been either with the way Sebastian spoke about Balinor.

"Did you ever stop to think that maybe this is part of your destiny? What if it ain't supposed to be a secret anymore? There's something coming along the horizon. I couldn't tell you what it is, but it's coming. I don't know what you or King Arse of Camelot..."

"I just call him a Prat," Merlin offered. "It flows easier, and I still doubt that Arthur even knows what it means."

The older man tried to contain a snort. "Don't be getting me all sidetracked!" he warned and pretended to scowl. "Anyway, I don't know what the two of you have to do with the future. But, it seems like whatever Fate has waiting for you, it's probably together. And Fate can be a fickle mistress. If she's gotten sick of you hiding things, she's damned well gonna find a way to bring it all out into the open."

Hanging his head, Merlin rubbed at his temples. The headache from drinking the undiluted wine the night before had subsided thanks to the tonic, but a new one was forming. Mithian had suggested that he could be a representative of Nemeth to Camelot, but what did he really know about a place that was supposed to be his new home?

"I'm really just a simple peasant. I've never asked for any of this. My mother told me once that when the time was right, the truth would be known." His mother's answer had been wise, but unhelpful. Gaius had said something similar on occasion, but each time that Merlin imagined that the time would come, his mentor would caution him against it. He'd wondered occasionally what his father would have advised, had they gotten a chance to really know one another. It occurred to Merlin that the man sitting across from him was perhaps the closest he might ever get to having such a conversation. "How do I really know that this is supposed to be the right time?"

"It is, whether you like it or not, boy. Your father wasn't one to wait for the right time for anything. I suppose in that way you're not like him at all. You seem to wait too long...must be from your mother."

Merlin slouched back into the chair. "I don't even know what she's going to think of all this. I've never even told her that I met my father."

"It's about time you do that, I would suggest...before she hears about it from some wandering minstrel that screws everything up."

"How, though? I'm supposed to get married the day after tomorrow. It's not like I can ride through Camelot's lands to reach Ealdor. It would take almost a week to get there."

"Boy, you are a bit daft. Go summon that damned lizard and have him take you. If he complains - which I'm sure he will - let him know that I will be happy to tell you all about the time he tried to use my favorite lance as a toothpick."

Blue eyes widened. The mere idea that anyone had something over Kilgharrah was laughable, yet frightening. He knew from the moment he'd met Sebastian that he shouldn't underestimate the man and this just solidified that opinion.

"Go talk to your mum. She has a right to know about all of this and I'm sure you'd hate for her to hear it from someone else."

"But, what about Mithian? I need to-"

"I'll take care of your princess. She'll understand. And," Sebastian hauled his heft out of the chair. Merlin could almost see the wood sigh in relief. "If she doesn't, well, you won't be around to deal with it, now will you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Doberler and Nance for their work on flow and proofreading. And thank you so much for the comments and kudos!


	21. Facing the Demons

He drifted in and out of sleep throughout the night. His mind plagued with what-ifs. There had to be a way to compromise, as he had with the druids. However, there was so much fear instilled prejudice against magic users that even the peaceful nomads still faced persecution within various parts of his kingdom. He recalled the old woman whom he and Merlin had saved from the pyre in her village. The one who had given him the Horn of Cathbhadh. He knew nothing about her or what she had been accused of, but he'd taken the ancient, magical object. Even after being warned, he'd still used it without regard for the laws of magic and bringing about near-disastrous consequence.

Leon had been correct when he told Arthur that the laws couldn't be changed because of people like Morgana. What would Arthur have done if he had the gift of magic? Would he have been as bad as his sister, or his father? It had been over eight years since he'd followed the sorceress Morgause to the ruined temple and met his mother. Or, was it just a trick of magic? To this day, he wasn't certain if the words the ghost had spoken were true. If it hadn't been for Merlin, Arthur would have killed his own father for his own use of magic to create an heir that killed his queen. Although Arthur didn't think that Uther had intentionally agreed, knowing the end result, it still gave Arthur pause to wonder about magic.

Then, there was Merlin. He warned Arthur that his life would be in danger without the servant at his side. How true was that? Had Merlin really protected him so much from magic by using magic? Where was the sense? Where was the line drawn? The power Arthur had witnessed… how many men had Merlin used that power against? Had any of them experienced without the restraint Merlin had shown when facing his king? How many other sorcerers could, or even would, do that?

Not many. That was the sad fact of the matter. Because of Uther's Purge, the sorcerers who were left were outlaws. Many remained hidden or swore off the use of magic to survive. Those who didn't sought vengeance time and again against Camelot and the House of Pendragon. If Arthur allowed magic to be used again, would it bring peace even from the outlaws? Or would they take advantage of it, somehow using Arthur's compassion against him?

By the time the sun rose, he'd had perhaps two hours' worth of broken sleep and felt heavily exhausted without being any closer to an answer. He tried to put on a smile for Guinevere over their breakfast, but he could see the worry for him gathered in her brow. She offered to take care of the reports from the Knights and Lords over the Round Table that morning in order to let him rest. He declined. He needed to be doing something.

After the third Lord dragged on about the levies and slightly diminished food supply in his territory, Arthur was beginning to wish he had taken up his wife's offer. It was all he could do to keep from bolting at that very moment. When the next petitioner began to speak about a minor sickness in his lands, was when Arthur finally noticed that Gaius was missing from the proceedings.

He hadn't seen the physician all day and began to question the old man's whereabouts. "Perhaps this would be a situation better addressed by the Court Physician," Arthur finally said, interrupting the village elder who had come before him. "Sadly, he was needed elsewhere this morning. I will arrange for you to meet with him later to discuss the situation in your village."

Arthur waved his hand, dismissing the elder. Thankfully, there didn't seem to be anyone else needing his attention for the time being. Guinevere had already seen to many of the audiences that required the attention of the Crown during his short journey to Nemeth and back.

Many of the nobles in attendance seemed grateful for the chance to be released to return to their own affairs so early in the day. Arthur had never set a time limit for the petitioners as his father had always done. It was just another, albeit small, change from the days of Uther's reign.

"Sire, would you like your lunch brought to your chambers? Or will you be dining elsewhere today?" George asked, falling in dutifully behind the king.

The small manservant had been so quiet and so perfectly behaved, that Arthur had almost forgotten he was being followed around. "Neither. I need to find Gaius," he said sharper than he intended. But George didn't appear to notice the tone of voice or he simply ignored it. Merlin would have shot back with some questions that may or may not have pertained to Arthur's statement. He then would have followed it up with some babbling monologue, prattling on about something completely nonsensical. Either with or without the incessant chatter, Arthur found himself annoyed.

* * *

No matter how many times he'd been privileged to ride on Kilgharrah's back, the exhilaration and awe remained at the forefront of Merlin's awareness. It was only when his feet were once again on solid ground and the tiny village where he was born stood below the rise of the hill that it hit him. He was going home to tell his mother that a man she'd never spoken of, but who had been a large part of her life through her son, was dead. Balinor would never return to her. Merlin had no idea if she'd be glad or heartbroken for it. Not once, could he ever recall her speaking about Balinor. Everything the man had been to her, she'd kept locked away deep inside. The few times Merlin had asked, he'd been met with a moment of silence before Hunith would abruptly change the subject.

From his earliest days, he learned to not question if he had a father or what had happened to him. It had only been when Gaius explained that the Dragon Lord who Merlin and Arthur would be searching for was, in fact, Merlin's father, that he'd first known anything about the man. Merlin understood if it hadn't been for such a dire situation — one that he had caused when he vowed on his mother's life — he never would have been told.

Perhaps Sebastian had been right. Maybe this was part of his destiny. Everything he'd done, everything he'd learned, had all led to that day in King Rodor's Throne Room.

He felt weak for a moment. Nothing but a pawn in some ongoing conflict where the bigger picture was obscured from view. But, now the view had so long he'd stood in Arthur's shadow, hiding his magic and who he was ... and where had that gotten him? ...In trouble more often than not. It left him feeling shackled, impotent to enact any real change. Arthur still hated magic, even though he'd used it himself by proxy. None of it was of Arthur's own doing. The king didn't know how it felt to be chained and unable to live up to his full potential when it came to forces beyond his control.

No, Merlin realized, Arthur did know… in a way. Until recently, Arthur had been bound by his father's ghost, even before the actual spirit had wrought hell in the castle. It wasn't exactly the same. The only reason Arthur had used magical means for his own agenda was because Merlin was always there by his side. Yes, he'd preached caution to his king and warned him of the evils of magic, never really believing his own words. How could he, when he was magic? Arthur must have known on some level, even if he refused to admit it.

"I suppose there's no point in putting this off, is there?"

"Not if you wish to return in time for your union. However, I could take you somewhere no one would ever find you if you wish to run away from all this." Kilgharrah's patronizing tone grated on Merlin's nerves. "Of course, I've never known you to run away from a challenge before."

"There is always a first time for everything."

"Is facing your mother really that difficult for you, Young Warlock?"

"You have no idea." Merlin drew a deep breath and started over the hill toward Ealdor.

The village was practically empty when he finally reached it. After years of learning to navigate the crowded streets of Camelot, it felt weird to walk into such a quiet setting. He squinted his eyes as he searched around, before realizing that almost everyone would be in the fields working. Rain or shine, there was always work to be done. Much of the hay used for feeding livestock through the winter would be about the right height for cutting. That meant long days of swinging a scythe or raking it into heaps where it would then be dried and gathered for storage before other crops like oats and wheat matured. There was never any time for rest during the summer months. Only those who were physically unable to help would be left behind with others who had different work to attend to.

The old blacksmith was sharpening tools near his small forge. A very pregnant woman was wiping the sweat from her brow as she sat in the shade across the way, grinding some of the previous season's grain for unleavened bread that the townsfolk might share for supper that night. A couple of unruly children, not young enough to be carried or old enough to be of any real help, ran giggling by. They paused for a moment to evaluate the newcomer to their village, their merriment turning to nervous curiosity before the woman called them over to her.

Merlin was glad he'd left behind the finer clothing that King Rodor had given him, as an old man hobbled out of a nearby hut. The man leaned heavily on a makeshift crutch and Merlin had to keep himself from flinching, knowing that he had possibly contributed to the man's limp.

"Simmons," he acknowledged politely and received a scowl in return.

"Here without your precious king this time, eh? It's not like you to come back for a social visit. What'd ya do, drop a tree on him as well?"

It took all of Merlin's patience not to respond to the old man's baiting. He smiled and answered playfully, "No. It wasn't a tree."

He walked away quickly, leaving Old Man Simmons to his own imagination of what Merlin might have done to find himself back in Ealdor. It didn't take him long to make his way to the fields and spot his mother's familiar green headscarf among the people working. She failed to notice him until he reached out to take the rake from her hand.

"Let me give you a hand with this."

"Merlin!" she gasped in surprise and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He returned the embrace, only then realizing how much he had missed her and the simple life he'd grown up with.

"Where is King Arthur? You didn't come alone, did you?" Before he could respond, she read the hesitation on his face. "Something happened."

"It can wait. There's a lot of things I need to tell you, Mother."

Hunith nodded reluctantly and let him be for the moment. She understood that there would be time enough to speak in private later. She bent down and began to gather some of the hay into a bushel while Merlin picked up where she had left off by raking it together.

By late afternoon, every muscle in his body ached. He could feel the blisters forming on his hands, as they were no longer protected by callouses from the rough handle of the rake. Working for Arthur was no easy task, but he had forgotten how different it was from working out in the fields. He applied some fresh dandelion leaves to his raw palms before wrapping a damp cloth around them. Even with the aches, it felt good to be doing something that occupied his body and mind, allowing him to push away all the turmoil that he'd been faced with.

At his mother's insistence, he sat down at their small table and watched silently as Hunith set to work making them a small meal.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

Releasing a sigh, Merlin knew he couldn't put off the conversation any longer. He was already beginning to miss Mithian and was worried about how much trouble he'd be in when he finally did return to her. "He knows. Arthur knows."

He watched as his mother went still, her shoulders tightening across her back as she stared at the cooking fire. "Are you in trouble?" She finally asked, not turning around to let him see her face.

Merlin laughed. He couldn't help himself. Was he in trouble? Well, that would depend on what his mother's true definition of trouble was. "If you're worried that he'll come after me here, then no. But… I am now engaged to be married to a princess." He waited for her reaction.

It seemed to take forever before his mother finally shook her head in confusion as she turned to face him. "You'd better start from the beginning. I think this is going to be quite the story."

* * *

Arthur had taken care of most of the matters of Court that morning, though his effort to remain focused had been found wanting. Because of that, and the fact he seemed to have disappeared around the time a break had been called, Gwen now sat on the throne. There was still more business to attend to. The Lords and village elders who sought the King's Council earlier were just the start. Arthur should have realized that there were still petitioners waiting to be heard; people who didn't have the status granted to those who had come before the Throne earlier in the day.

She sat comfortably on the cushion that had been placed on the seat of the throne. It was something Arthur had insisted on for her, though neither himself nor his father had ever used one. In subtle ways, he showed her how much she mattered to him.

The majority of the complaints and grievances brought before her were common, everyday occurrences. A hog had broken loose from its pen and ate some lettuce in a neighbor's garden. An old woman was convinced that a traveling merchant had charged her too much for a trinket. A child had been too noisy too late into the evening. These were all things that should have been handled by the people themselves and Gwen began to understand why her husband had disappeared.

"Majesty." One of the castle guards came and bowed before her, just as another man with another petty matter came to the bottom of the stairs.

The queen was relieved to have her attention diverted, as she had dealt with this particular petitioner before. He was an older man and a loyal follower of Uther's reign, who commonly called out those he suspected of doing magic. Only once since Arthur had become king had his claim ever been validated. The man he'd accused was a druid who had performed a simple blessing on a child with an injured knee. Arthur had been forced to acknowledge the incident. However, when the circumstances had been discovered, the king had released the druid from custody with a warning. While the nomadic people were accepted in the kingdom, it might be better if the druid was not seen in the actual city of Camelot again.

No pyre was built nor gallows strung, and the man who had brought the charges had felt slighted by the king. Since then, it seemed the man had a new suspect every time petitioners were granted an audience. The first couple of times, the guards had done their due diligence in arresting the accused, but now even they rolled their eyes and simply warned the person to not do it again.

The old man bristled at the interruption. Gwen ignored him as she turned toward the guard patiently.

"A herald has arrived from Nemeth with a message for you and His Majesty, the King from King Rodor," he said quietly.

She nodded and held up her hand, silently asking the guard to wait before proceeding. "I wish that I could continue to listen to your appeals today. However, there is a matter that requires my immediate attention. I urge you all to try and seek your own lawful solutions to the matters you have brought before the Court today. If you still need the Crown's mediation, then I ask that you return to Court next month."

Gwen felt sorry for most of the people she hadn't been able to listen to yet. Although, perhaps not the old troublemaker. Even after all the years she had been at Arthur's side listening to the issues of their subjects, it took all her willpower not to actually apologize to them. While a queen should never be sorry, she was still a blacksmith's daughter and a maid at heart.

She immediately retired to one of the antechambers and asked that the herald be brought before her. A man wearing a tabard with Nemeth's colors was escorted in. He bowed and handed her a rolled parchment sealed with King Rodor's sigil. She thanked him and broke the seal.

Just as Arthur had predicted, it was an invitation to Princess Mithian's wedding. Gwen was a bit surprised when she realized how quickly it would take place. If they left Camelot the next day at first light, then they would make it to Nemeth the day of the ceremony. She gave the herald a questioning glance and realized at once how exhausted the man appeared to be. "Did you ride straight through the night?"

"Yes, Your Majesty, but it has been my honor to deliver this to you."

"Thank you. I shall send one of our own riders back to Nemeth with a reply after I speak with King Arthur. The guard will see that your horse is taken care of and find you a place to rest."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." He bowed low and followed the guard out.

Arthur wouldn't be ready for this. She wasn't even certain if she was. Since she became queen, she had attended a few weddings with Arthur. Most of them were still prearranged and had months, if not years of planning put into them. The ceremonies were everything from elaborate nuptials to simple feasts that celebrated the union. Perhaps King Rodor had been planning a wedding for his daughter for a long time, it only took finding the right man for the final piece to be put in place.

Well, she had less than one day to find her husband and convince him to forgive Merlin or she knew she would be going alone to Nemeth. There was no way she would miss this event. Merlin had stood by her and believed in the love she shared with Arthur when no one else had. She owed it to him to be there.


	22. The Trouble with Treason

 

Dusty, dingy, and smelling of various concoctions and algae from the tank of leeches — that was how Arthur remembered the Physician's Chambers while growing up. He hadn't realized how much work Merlin must have done on a daily basis to keep Gaius' quarters livable. In the few days since he'd left his servant behind in Nemeth, he could already see the signs of the place returning to its natural state. Gaius wasn't sloppy, but he also wasn't the best housekeeper. Between brewing his herbs into tinctures and administering them to the people of Camelot, anything more than a simple tidying up was lost.

Arthur had come to the place expecting to find Gaius. He almost left when he realized the physician wasn't in his chambers, but instead decided to stay and wait. It was quiet and peaceful. The din of the streets barely reaching the high windows along the wall. No one would think of looking for the king here unless he was injured, especially without Merlin around.

He'd always tried to avoid the tower and its occasional obnoxious odors wafting about by the medicines Gaius made. Even when it was clean, he only found himself here when he was looking for Merlin or in dire need of Gaius' advice. For awhile, he just sat on the hard bench and stared absently around the room.

Books lined the narrow staircase, which was more of a ladder than actual stairs, along the high wall. Arthur had never really looked at them, but now he wondered if any of the tomes contained magic. Certainly Gaius wouldn't have kept such a thing out in the open. On a few occasions when Arthur had been ordered to search these chambers he'd never come across any, but he never really knew what he'd been looking for. Everything in the rooms was out of the ordinary to him. His father had been so adamant about destroying sorcery that Arthur didn't have a clue what it was truly about. It could have hit him square in the face and he might not have seen it.

Rolling his eyes, he recalled some of the experiences he and Guinevere had shared the night before. It was quite possible that it had, in fact, hit him many times over and he'd been completely oblivious. Perhaps Gaius wasn't as aware of Merlin's magic as Arthur suspected. He shook that thought away. Of course, Gaius knew. He had to have known something from the looks he had shot Merlin in King Rodor's Throne Room. Where was he, anyway?

Arthur stood up and began pacing until his footsteps carried him to the base of the stairs that led up to Merlin's room. It had been years since he'd seen the inside of it, but he didn't hesitate as he made his way up the steps and through the door. He didn't know what he'd been expecting. Clothes strew about in disarray, an unmade bed, or various nonsensical collections of clutter.

What he found inside was quite the opposite. The bed was made, though there was a pair of threadbare woolen socks left on the floor beside it. Other than that, the small bedroom was rather neatly kept. It took him a moment to realize that while he had grown up, Merlin had as well. There was a nightstand with a candle. Shirts and neckerchiefs were folded neatly in the drawers. A desk under the room's only window was cleared of everything but a few books on medicine. Next to the stack of books was one of Merlin's neckerchiefs, tented and concealing something underneath.

Part of Arthur almost didn't want to know what was under the scrap of worn cloth. Respect for privacy dictated that he should have just left it alone. However, he was the king, it was his right to know what it was. Merlin had kept enough secrets from him. Lifting the coarse blue cloth, Arthur's eyes widened at the carved wooden dragon he found underneath.

"Can I help you, Sire?"

Arthur tightened his grip on the cloth so he wouldn't drop it back down over the dragon guiltily. He took a breath and waited a beat for his heart to settle after being startled by the physician. "How long have you known, Gaius?" He heard the old man sigh and waited.

"You'll have to be more specific, sire."

Teeth clenched tightly. The last thing Arthur wanted to do was to lose his temper, as he had done with Merlin. "This." He pointed to the toy creature. "How long had you known that Merlin was a Dragon Lord?"

"I knew he had the potential all his life. I'd met Balinor a few times in Nemeth before the Purge. When I first received word that Hunith had given birth, I understood the implications."

"Is that why he came here in the first place? Because you knew about his potential and his magic."

"No. I didn't know about his magic until he arrived. He saved my life with his powers the moment he walked into my chambers. His mother sent him here. I thought it was to find work at first, but later learned that Cenred was scouring the villages in his kingdom, looking to conscript anyone with the potential for magic. It seemed that Merlin had drawn some attention when he'd used his magic to try and get firewood. Hunith feared for his safety."

Arthur finally let the cloth drop back next the wooden dragon. In his mind, he saw the village of Ealdor and imagined what could have been going through Merlin's mind at the time to fell a tree using magic. He would have liked to think that Merlin was simply careless, but he now understood that as a boy he'd probably been more on the desperate side. Ealdor didn't have much. It was a simple farming community, no more than that. It had taken Guinevere to show him how little the people there had.

While he couldn't imagine having grown up in such squalid conditions, he understood that for those people it was the only thing they knew. It was all Merlin had known before Camelot.

"You say he saved your life. Tell me about it."

Gaius drew a deep breath and cast his eyes down. Arthur wasn't sure if he was going to say anything, or if the old man was holding the air in until he passed out to avoid this discussion. Logically, he knew Gaius wouldn't do such a thing - Gwaine perhaps would, or even Elyan on occasion. But for the physician, it was simply a means of gathering his thoughts.

Releasing the breath, Gaius' shoulders sank. "I was looking for a book, high along the top shelves when the railing gave way, just as Merlin first walked in. To this day, I still don't know how he did it, but I had expected to hit the hard stone upon landing. Instead, my bed was suddenly underneath me, breaking my fall."

"He can move objects then?"

"Among other things, yes, Sire. Has been able to since he was a child. He is unlike anyone with magic I have ever known before or will I ever meet again."

"How many sorcerers have you known?" Arthur knew his question was off-topic, but something in the way Gaius spoke told him it was something he needed to know.

"Far too many to count. Most of them died during the early days of your father's Great Purge." Gaius turned away and meandered down the stairs out into the main quarters.

Arthur paused to look at the small toy once more before following. He'd heard about the Purge his whole life. It was his father's greatest accomplishment. Why now was he beginning to question the wisdom of it? Were the magic users really that bad? Were they all like Morgana, out to seize any opportunity to kill those who disagreed with them? Or, could it be that they weren't like that at all - just a few powerful people who were bent on destroying Uther's legacy?

He watched Gaius sink into his chair, while he leaned against the small table nearby. "When Morgause came to Camelot the first time and bested me in a duel, she wanted me to meet her a few days later. When I did, she summoned a woman I assumed to be my mother who told me that my father had used magic."

Gaius' eyebrow rose, but he remained silent.

"Not that he actually used it himself, but he a deal with someone to give him an heir. The cost was my mother's life. When we returned to Camelot, I attacked my father. Merlin stopped me and convinced me that Morgause had been lying. That she was evil."

"Whether Morgause's intentions toward you at the time were borne of evil, I do not know, Sire." Gaius paused for what seemed to be longer than necessary.

Arthur felt even more confused by Gaius' response. He was just about to ask for more information when the physician began speaking again.

"When she was a baby, I personally smuggled her out of Camelot at her mother's insistence and gave her to the High Priestess. Your mother was pregnant at the time and it had been a hard few months for her. Uther wanted the child gone because the Lady Vivienne was tending to your mother and he felt her daughter was too much of a distraction. Also, she was the one Uther had chosen to be a wet nurse and was adamant that she couldn't have two children at her breast. I didn't realize that his attentions toward Morgause's mother went any deeper.

"It is possible that Morgause, at the time at least, simply wanted revenge for being torn away from her mother at such a young age. Or, that the priestess who trained her had guided her towards vengeance because of the Purge. Maybe she hoped that she could change things." Gaius put his hands up and shrugged.

"But, what my mother…or the ghost of her…said, was it true? Did my father's actions to secure a son result in my mother's death?" He asked, trying to detach himself from the actual event.

Gaius closed his eyes and pursed his lips. "Yes, Sire. I'm afraid it was."

"Then, why in the hell did Merlin tell me that magic was evil?" Arthur's temper was getting the better of him, and he knew it.

"To keep you safe."

The answer was too simple. Arthur scowled, Merlin had lied to keep Uther safe. He wanted to throw something, to break something, to go back in time and finish the fight with his father. He'd never fully let go of the idea that had been planted that day.

"He didn't want you to begin your reign as king with the blood of your father on your hands."

He reeled back as if he'd been punched, the breath exploding out of his lungs, suddenly realizing the impossible position he must have put Merlin in. What would he have done that day if he'd killed his father? He would have been a bigger pawn for the likes of Morgause or Agravaine, or any number of influential nobles. He would have looked to them for advice and been so insecure in his own abilities that it could have cost him everything.

The table shifted as he rested slightly his full weight against it, but it held its place. Strong and sturdy, so unlike how he felt. He would have been lost without Merlin that day, as well as so many times after that. Gaius was staring at his own hands, fold together on top of the desk. "You don't seem too upset at leaving him behind in Nemeth."

"He is safe there, even if I wish that our parting had been more pleasant. I honestly believe that he needs to be here at your side, but I have seen too many friends perish under the laws of Camelot. I couldn't bear to lose him in the same manner."

Arthur's mind went back to Merlin's final words about how he'd be in danger without Merlin at his side. He hadn't really dwelt on it. Now, however, he wondered how much more had been kept from him. It seemed to go deeper than just the occasional sorcerer out for vengeance or the odd bandits they came across on patrol, or even beyond Morgana's attempts. "You helped his father escape," Arthur stated. He'd already figured that much earlier on, but now he stared at Gaius, waiting for the old man to confirm it.

The wrinkled, weathered chin lifted proudly. "Yes, and as many other innocent men and women as I could during your father's Purge. Most of the first to fall had been Uther's advisers in the war against the dragons to retake Camelot after his brother died. He never lied when he said the kingdom had been in the depths of chaos when he came, but he never explained to you why. I was as loyal as I could be to him and I owed Uther a great deal."

"Yet, you still committed treason."

Gaius sat forward and stared meaningfully at his king. "As did you, My Lord, when you helped young Mordred to escape. As did we all in some form or another to keep those we cared about safe from your father."

* * *

When he finished recounting the past few days, she just stared at him for a while. Her son was a grown man. He had been for many years, even though she still thought of him as her baby boy. It was obvious he no longer needed her to protect him from the cruelties of the world. "I'm sorry I never told you about your father."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I'd met him."

Hunith reached across the table and covered her son's hands with her own. "I taught you how to keep secrets. You have nothing to be sorry for. I suppose it is a bit of a relief, finally knowing what happened to him."

"He still loved you. I saw it when he said your name."

"Balinor barely knew me...and I barely knew him. When he arrived with the letter from Gaius, I was still so young. He was this mysterious dark-haired man, who had been broken by whatever had happened to him. I didn't know he was a Dragon Lord. He never told me. I think he wanted to keep me safe. He was crying one night. I didn't ask why. But, I held him and comforted him. After that…" She drifted off, a sad smile played on her face as she remembered how they had come together.

"He was happier after that. Balinor had no qualms about becoming a farmer, though I could tell he'd never worked the land before that. He was only here until just before the autumn harvest. There had been another village, just to the north. I think you and Will played in the ruins of it once when you were supposed to be fishing."

"I remember. We got in a lot of trouble for that."

"There was a Witchfinder and he'd tracked Balinor from Camelot, but he went to the wrong town. Simmons was from there. He was the only survivor to make it to Ealdor and he told us what had happened. Balinor refused to let the same fate befall Ealdor as had happened to those people. He took a horse and went to confront them. He planned to lead them away from us. I never knew what happened to him after that."

"Is that why the old man has always hated me? Because it was my father they were after when his village was destroyed?"

"Simmons has had a very hard life. He lost everyone he cared about and blamed both Balinor and Camelot for it…and me for harboring a fugitive. But, everyone here loved Balinor. We'd taken him in as one of our own. Simmons is a grouchy old fool, whom no one liked trading with long before his village had been razed."

They shared a chuckle, both feeling relieved to finally be able to talk about the secrets of the past.

Hunith stood up and walked over to the door, breathing in the cooling air of the evening, as she let the story Merlin had told her settle in her mind. It had hurt to hear the truth about Balinor. She'd held onto a childish fantasy that he would someday return for her. It was a relief to finally be able to let him go, but she silently grieved for what could have been.

Her eyes searched the narrow lane that ran between the houses of the small village. Candles and hearth fires outlined neighboring windows. Everyone was settling down for the night, no more aware of the changes in her son's life than they had been before his arrival. Then she noticed a lone figure, slowly limping his way out of the blacksmith's home and toward another house. The blacksmith stood in his doorway and stared across the lane at Hunith; his mouth moving, but she couldn't make out the words.

As soon as the old man had been granted entry into the next house, the smith quickly crossed to Hunith's door. He saw Merlin and nodded in greeting. "He's trying to stir up trouble. Says that Merlin here did something to King Arthur and he's now worried that all hell is going to rain down on us."

"Merlin?" Hunith turned toward her son. "What did you say to him?"

Groaning, Merlin rubbed his hands over his face. "He made a comment about me being back and asked if I'd dropped a tree on Arthur. I may or may not have made a retort that it wasn't a tree."

"Well, he's now going door to door, getting everyone riled up with stories of what happened to his old village. I was fifteen when it happened. So, I remember it, even if I think he's full of shite. Tell me he is, Merlin. Tell me that the king who helped save us from Kanen isn't going to be coming here after you. We lost good people when that other man came after you the last time you were here. People may not remember Simmons' history, but they do remember that."

"He won't. I swear it. He doesn't even know I'm here. Even if he did, he's not like his father. He wouldn't burn an entire village for one man, especially one that helped save him."

"His queen lived with us for a while, do you remember?" Hunith interjected. "She is a kind and decent woman who wouldn't stand for such a thing."

The smith nodded. "I believe you, but Simmons is good at causing fear. Even my wife is worried, though I told her she shouldn't be. It might be best for you not to stay here any longer than necessary, Merlin." He turned out toward the street and sighed. "I'll try to do what damage control I can, but I don't know how successful I'll be."

"I'll be leaving tonight, I promise."

The smith gave a nod and left without another word.

"I should get back to Nemeth anyway. Mithian is probably going to be more of a threat than Arthur if I don't return soon. She is absolutely set on this whole marriage thing. Come with me, Mother. I want you to meet her."

Hunith smiled at her son. She wanted to meet this woman who had managed to change so much, but Nemeth seemed so far away. The two times she had left Ealdor to travel to Camelot had been in desperation. Her entire life had been in Ealdor. If she left now, she had a feeling that she would never return to her home; to everything she knew and felt comfortable with. But, this was her son asking. It meant so much to him to have her approval. He was going to be a lord and married to a princess. Her home had grown lonelier with each winter that passed. When Merlin had been younger, she'd hoped he'd find a wife and that the house would someday be filled with her grandchildren.

Now, he was going to be married, but there was no chance of his wife leaving her home. Who would want to leave a palace for a tiny hovel in farming village? If she ever wanted to see any grandchildren they might give her, she couldn't stay in Ealdor. With the news that Balinor would never return, her last excuse for staying had evaporated. "So, how are we supposed to get to the kingdom of Nemeth? I suppose we'll have to secure a wagon for my belongings."

"Wait. You mean you'll come? To live there? I've been asking you to move to Camelot for years. There's no way we can get there with a wagon in two days."

"Two days?" She blinked in disbelief.

"That's when the wedding is. We'll have to send someone back for everything."

"Merlin, how are we supposed to get there in two days?"

He smirked. Then gave his mother a look of earnest, wide-eyed innocence, and stated matter-of-factly, "Didn't I tell you? I have a dragon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments and kudos! You all sure know how to make a gal feel special! (And also how to keep muses well fed! :D) I'm about halfway through my plot outline, though I couldn't tell ya how many chapters it will be because muses are weird sometimes, ya know! Thanks again!


	23. Contrasting Friendships

It wasn't like Leon to call for the king and a meeting of the Round Table at such an hour, unless it was truly an emergency. When the knight first entered the room, Gwen had been with her maid, preparing for her trip to Nemeth. She admitted that she hadn't seen Arthur and expressed her concern for Leon's unexpected visit. He didn't tell her much, as he wanted to speak with Arthur first about the news he'd received.

George happened to be coming in with his arms full of Arthur's shirts, spotlessly clean and freshly pressed. He mentioned that the last time he'd seen Arthur, the king had been searching for Gaius. It hadn't taken long for Leon to track Arthur down after that. Apparently, he had been hiding in the Physician's Chambers, behind a locked door discussing what had taken place in Nemeth regarding Merlin.

Gwen sat at the end of the long table in the room, waiting for Arthur to return from the meeting. She wished she would have gone, but there were stacks of paperwork she needed to finish before the hastily planned trip to Nemeth. When Arthur did finally appear in their chambers, he seemed in a worse mood than he had been the previous night. "Arthur, what is it? What's happened?" She asked quickly, hoping that Leon's news had nothing to do with Merlin.

The king slid into his chair and stared blankly at the table. His eyes glistened with unshed tears. Gwen waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts and confide in her. The news of the invitation from King Rodor could wait.

"A sorcerer named Osgar attacked the Eastern Garrison with magic. Sir Ranulf was killed when they tried to apprehend him," he said after a long pause.

On the heels of learning that his best friend had magic, hearing that a known outlaw was suddenly creating havoc was not something Arthur needed.

"I've ordered all the men on the Eastern Borders to be on high alert and I plan to lead the patrol to capture him personally."

The Eastern borders were in the opposite direction from Nemeth. She felt her heart sink, realizing that there was absolutely no way Arthur could be in both places. "Is it necessary for you to go in person?"

"A king must lead, or what is the point of him. Sir Ranulf's death cannot go unpunished." His answer was filled with conviction.

The losses kept stacking against her husband and she wondered if he was now on a mission to prove something to himself. She wasn't sure how, or even if she should try to convince him to accompany her to the wedding. Magic had played a major part in the way he'd lost two good men recently. Merlin because he had it and Sir Ranulf from fighting against it. Even if he refused to go to Nemeth, she didn't feel safe with the thought of him running off into a dangerous situation, especially without Merlin at his side.

Standing up, she walked over to him. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Gwen kissed the top of his head. "You have many fine men to avenge him."

"Hmm." He reached out and brushed her arm with his fingers. "I heard there was a herald who arrived earlier," Arthur suddenly said, changing the topic.

She could see he was trying to distract her from the real issue. Biting her lip, she nodded and allowed for the change. "From Nemeth. It's a wedding invitation from King Rodor." Chuckling, she tried to make light of the news. "It seems they are in a bit of a hurry to be married. I was planning to leave in the morning in order to be there on the day of the wedding. I had hoped you would come with me."

Arthur flinched and turned away from her. "I can't. Ranulf wasn't just a knight, Guinevere, he was a friend. We knew each other as boys. I must go. Have no fear. I will be perfectly safe. As you say, I have many fine knights."

"I understand." The fact that she truly did made it more difficult to know that he would be riding into danger come first light. He still wasn't thinking clearly from the loss of Merlin in his life, even though it was his own pride that kept them apart. She could only imagine that he was now visualizing his best friend as the sorcerer who killed his childhood companion.

"Give my regards to King Rodor and tell Princess Mithian I wish the best for her in her marriage."

"And what about Merlin?" Gwen knew that she was pushing the issue when she should have just let it be.

Before Arthur could respond, someone knocked on the door. The king gave his wife a look, signaling that their conversation was done and called out for the person to enter.

It was Arthur's newest knight, a young man who had assisted Arthur in Ismere, named Mordred. He was very sweet and eager to please Arthur. Gwen had a feeling that she had met him before, but she could never place where. About the only thing she knew of him was that for some reason Merlin didn't trust him. At first, she had thought it was a minor case of jealousy, as Arthur had been spending a lot of time with the young man, training him personally. But, with recent events coming to light, she began to wonder if there was more to it.

"You wished to see me, Sire?" Mordred asked timidly, afraid to move beyond the door.

"Ah, Mordred, come in. Come in." The king's mood brightened immediately.

The queen stepped back and admired the way Arthur interacted with the boy. She hoped that if they someday had a son that Arthur would treat their child with an equal amount of enthusiasm.

"I want you to join me on a patrol to the Eastern Garrison."

Biting back a sigh, Gwen knew that Arthur would not change his mind on this, though she felt there was more than just Sir Ranulf's death. She only hoped that whatever he was thinking, he would keep his head about him as he faced this sorcerer.

* * *

They were about halfway to Nemeth when Hunith had enough of traveling by dragon. He had to remind himself that his mother wasn't even used to riding on horseback. She'd clung so tightly to him from behind, having outright refused to ride in front of Merlin. Traveling, in general, had always been hard for her. If it hadn't been because of the wedding and the prospect of future grandchildren — something Merlin was refusing to think about since he was still getting used to the idea of being anything other than a servant — Hunith would have never left Ealdor. She had gone to Camelot on two occasions; both of which had been more out of desperation than desire.

It stung Merlin slightly that his mother hadn't been as awed by flying as Mithian had been, but then again, he hadn't really expected her to. When a familiar meadow caught his eye, he silently instructed Kilgharrah to land in order to give his mother a short break. With at least another hour until they reached Nemeth, he realized he might be able to get something to help ease her nerves.

Hunith was more than happy to have her feet on the ground. She reluctantly agreed to stay with the dragon, eyeing the large creature suspiciously, while Merlin ran off into the forest. It didn't take his feet long to find the familiar path that led him to the base of the wall. He knew if he was spotted by a guard, then things could go south very quickly. But, he wasn't too worried. How many times over the years had he sneaked in and out of Camelot with no one being the wiser?

Cautious as ever, he magically unlocked doors and diverted the attention of the guards until he found himself at the bottom of the stairs that lead up to Gaius' rooms. He searched the halls with his eyes and ears, making certain that no one else was around before he rapped lightly on the door. If it hadn't been for the last conversation he'd had with Gaius, Merlin would have burst into the room with his usual enthusiasm. It had been his home for ten years, yet now he felt like a visitor.

He'd been exhausted and moody. Everything he had known had come crashing down on his head that day. While he still maintained that his mentor should have told him more, he realized now how much he had been to blame for not asking. Gaius had lied to him, but just as Arthur had purposely been oblivious with Merlin's magic, Merlin had done the same with Gaius' secrets.

The door creaked open and Merlin tried to look casual, as he leaned against the frame.

Gaius' eyes widened in disbelief and he quickly shuffled to the side, encouraging Merlin to get in the room as quickly as possible. The old man hesitated once the door was closed, his hands clasping the sides of his robe as he waited for Merlin to make the first move.

Gaius had been his mentor, his friend - the only father-figure Merlin had ever known. With a cooler head and knowing he had Mithian's support, Merlin couldn't help but forgive the only man who he had shared everything with. He stepped up and wrapped Gaius in a warm hug. Gaius laughed through the tears that clouded his rheumy eyes and returned the embrace fully.

"Merlin. You shouldn't be here, you know," he admonished the younger man, as he wiped at his eyes and stepped back for Merlin to enter.

The younger man sighed and slid into the familiar seat at the table. Gaius sat down across from him and Merlin knew by the way the eyebrow rose that he wouldn't be chastised any more than that. "I know. I didn't plan to, but, well…I convinced my mother to fly on the back of a dragon."

The wrinkled mouth formed an 'O', while the eyebrow rose higher in curiosity. "That would be a sight to see. Is she here?"

"She's with Kilgharrah, waiting for me to return, but more than happy to have her feet on solid ground for a spell."

"You need me to make something for her," Gaius surmised, his mood drooping slightly.

"That's not the only reason I came." He picked at the rough wood on the table with his fingernail. "I'm sorry I was so short with you."

"I never meant to keep things from you. I just didn't realize how much I should have told you. My only intention was to keep you safe." Gaius pushed himself up off the bench and moved over to his worktable.

Merlin watched as the physician mixed a calming tonic together. "I'm getting married," he announced.

Gaius turned to smirk at Merlin. "I found that out earlier. A rider came from Nemeth with the invitation today. The queen has already started planning her journey."

"You're coming with her, right?"

"I wasn't sure if you wanted me to be there."

"Of course, I do, Gaius. I want you all there."

Putting a cork in the vial, Gaius handed it to Merlin. "I'm not sure Arthur is ready."

"Do you think he ever will be?"

Gaius offered his ward a shrug. "Perhaps. When he realizes how much he needs you."

"Like that day will ever come." Merlin rolled his eyes. Arthur may need him, but he wondered if the king's ego would ever allow him to admit it.

"It will come. Have faith." Sitting back down across from the younger man, Gaius drew a deep breath and clasped his hands on the table. "Whatever you wish to know, I will try my best to answer. I owe you that much."

The simple offer was all that Merlin needed to hear. He'd found out so much over the past days, he wasn't sure where to begin with the questions he had for Gaius. "There will be time enough later. I should get this to my mother. If I don't return to Nemeth soon, I might find myself back in a cell until the wedding."

"I take it the fair Mithian doesn't know that you're gone?" He snickered softly. "I imagine she might be a bit upset that you hadn't told her before you left."

"Yeah, well… it was Sebastian's idea."

"Sebastian? As in Lord Sebastian of Talruf? He's your father's cousin, if I recall correctly. I've heard many stories about him, though I don't believe I've ever had the pleasure of meeting the man."

"Quite the character, I assure you. He's told me some god-awful stories about Balinor's childhood."

Gaius smirked. "Well, perhaps he can convince your betrothed that you were simply in the tavern."

Merlin pinned the old man with a glare. That excuse had been far overused in his opinion. 'Anywhere, but the tavern!' He'd once pleaded with Gaius when he was trying to hide from Arthur. Sure enough, when Arthur had burst into the chambers demanding to know Merlin's whereabouts, the first thing that had come out of Gaius' mouth had been: 'Have you checked the tavern?'

He shook his head and laughed, pausing to wonder if the excuse would hold any sway with his beloved. "I best be on my way. Do you think you can bring any of my things when you come?"

"Of course, I can. However, you may want to go ahead and take the stuff under your bed. I doubt if Arthur would check the things I'll carry, but he's kept the whole situation rather quiet. If one of the guards or other knights were to find it…" His voice trailed off with the unspoken warning.

"Right. I'll go get them now." Merlin stood and started up the stairs to his room. He turned back and smiled at his mentor and friend. "Thank you, Gaius, for everything you've done for me."

* * *

Gwen knew she should have been in bed asleep next her husband. But, she was excited for her own journey as well as fearful of what Arthur planned to do. It hadn't mattered at all what she had said to try and convince him to accompany her. His mind was made up. When first light came, they would each head their separate ways.

Elyan would travel with her to Nemeth, while Arthur and the rest of his knights hunted down a sorcerer. The king had tried to convince Gwaine to go with her and everyone seemed shocked when the roguish knight put his foot down. Merlin was Gwaine's best friend. It wasn't like the man to miss an opportunity such as this, especially when there was drinking and merriment to be had. When the queen managed to question him, Gwaine only told her that he'd made a promise, before turning away and heading off to the Rising Sun for the evening.

Looking absently out the window, she was certain she saw someone leaving the tower that housed the Physician's Chambers and slipping through the shadows. Gwen drew a heavy robe about her shoulders and made her way through the castle. She realized that with all of the excitement, she hadn't personally seen the physician and she wanted to make certain that he'd been informed about both situations.

She suspected who it was that she saw sneaking off through one of the side gates of the palace, as she had watched and she wondered how many times she'd missed that exact thing happening before. If it was Merlin who had somehow managed to stop in, she hoped that he and Gaius had made amends. Thankfully, it also meant that Gaius was probably still awake. It hurt her to see the physician in such a state of despair from losing his ward, though he hid it well.

Quietly, she made her way through the castle to Gaius' rooms. Light seeped out from under the door, assuring her that he was still awake. Although, she was still cautious when she rapped gently on the door, just in case he was asleep. Her effort was rewarded when the door cracked open.

"You know you don't need to knock… Oh, My Lady. I didn't expect to see you at this late hour." He hesitated for a moment before opening the door wider and allowing her to enter. It was obvious he had expected someone else. "What brings you by?"

"I saw him leaving." She smirked at the old man.

"Who would that be?" he asked flatly as she walked past him, but the twinkle in his eyes told her that he knew perfectly well who she was referring to.

"Did he tell you about the wedding?"

Gaius made sure the door was closed before answering. "He did indeed."

She understood that he wanted to be careful that no one else overheard them. "Good." Gwen was happy to see that he appeared to be in a better mood than he had since his return. She hoped that her intuition was right that he and Merlin had found peace between them. She hesitated for a moment, before asking, "Then, shall I expect you to accompany Elyan and myself to Nemeth tomorrow?"

His bright smile was contagious and Gwen felt herself grinning in response. "I wouldn't miss it."

However, there was another matter that brought her here, aside from getting confirmation that the physician had entertained a visitor. "I'm glad. Although, I wish there was a way to postpone all of it until Arthur returns."

"Where is His Majesty off to?" The concern was evident in the way his eyebrow rose. He obviously hadn't been told the news.

"The Eastern Garrison, with most of his knights. It seems there is a sorcerer causing trouble. He killed one of Arthur's friends and now my husband is dead set on avenging Sir Ranulf."

Gaius sank into his chair, fear and worry settling over his features. "I'd heard there was an urgent rider from Brechfa who came to speak with Sir Leon, but I had no idea that Ranulf had been slain."

"Do you think Arthur will be alright?... Without Merlin, I mean." She chewed on her bottom lip waiting for his answer.

"Honestly, I don't know. If I had been aware of the situation earlier, perhaps I could have informed Merlin. But, I would have hated to see him postpone his own wedding because of this."

"As would I. Especially because I never thought I'd see the day when he actually did something for himself."

Nodding in agreement, Gaius sighed, "I suppose we shall just have to trust that Arthur and his men will prevail. It might be what the king needs to prove to himself that his accomplishments are truly his own. Everything will be as it should be, My Lady. You should go try to rest before our journey tomorrow."

Gwen smiled, but she couldn't stop worrying about her husband and what all might befall him without Merlin at his side.


	24. Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin arrives back in Nemeth.

Mithian paced the floor. It was well past midnight and there was still no word from Merlin. She would pause long enough to gaze out the window, even though she knew she wouldn't be able to see a dragon landing in the dark outside of the citadel walls. Sebastian had tried to explain that Merlin wouldn't be too long, but that had been hours ago. She hadn't even seen him since the night before.

"He'll return," Rodor stated, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that Sebastian had been the only one who had seen Merlin at all that day.

Mithian wasn't sure if she'd ever felt so nervous. How could her father be so relaxed? Hadn't he noticed the way Merlin had nearly fainted when the engagement had been announced? Or the fear in his eyes when Rodor informed the entire room that it would take place in three days! What if something had happened to him? She didn't fully trust Lord Sebastian right now, not after having heard him with Lord Travis in the corridor. To make matters worse, Travis had decided to return to his home directly after the announcement, even though it had been the middle of the night.

She hoped that Merlin hadn't decided to take on these Disir himself. After Kilgharrah had explained who they were, she knew that her beloved had been rightfully concerned with Arthur's safety. She didn't dare tell her father about the potential plot against the King of Camelot, even though she knew she ought to. Her father didn't need to worry himself about the odd behavior of his subjects at his age.

"Daughter, come and sit. Your pacing is wearing a hole into the floor." Rodor sighed, his body seemed heavy with exhaustion.

Wringing her hands, Mithian did as she was told, if only to try and ease her father's worry. Yet her feet refused to be still; she tried her best not to tap them on the floor.

"I'll have one of the servants make you something to help you sleep."

"I couldn't sleep, even if I wanted to." She started to get up, but reminded herself of who she was and sat back down. She was not just any girl, worried about her love gone missing. Mithian was a princess, heir to the Throne of Nemeth and nearly twenty-five years old. She shouldn't behave like some besotted, unschooled maiden.

"Sebastian said that he'd spoken with the young man this morning. Merlin had things he needed to take care of."

"But, it is nearly midnight!" she protested. Her voice sounding like a petulant child, even to her own ears. "I could have gone with him and helped him."

"Helped him how?" Rodor asked with another deep sigh.

She could tell her father was running out of patience with her — something that hadn't occurred in years.

What was it about Merlin that she felt so drawn to, so desperate for that she couldn't even remember her lifetime of etiquette? How could she have helped him if she had gone with him after these women of power? She had no magic. Maybe she could have stood over him and guarded him with her crossbow, but she'd never raised it against another human in her life. Yes, she could hunt and take the life of a deer to help feed her people, but she was not a warrior. She had been taught how to manage her feelings in negotiations. She knew how to administrate over her kingdom and to understand the levies needed to help her people prosper. She was able to read, write, and speak in three languages fluently…however, none of them dealt with magic.

"It's nothing, Father. I just…"

"Majesty." Bertrand made his way into the room and bowed. He glanced at the king and Mithian. "Lord Merlin has returned and wishes to speak with you."

Bertrand was always very formal with her father, more so than any of the others Rodor surrounded himself with. He was a good man, although Mithian had always found him to be a bit too stiff and at times, distant. He'd known they were sitting up, awaiting word of Merlin's return, and had been instructed to bring Merlin before them when he did finally show. She saw a smile form on her father's lips and knew that some sort of message had passed between them. They had been like that from her earliest memories. She hoped one day to figure out if they prearranged certain meanings in phrases or if it was just the fact that they had known each other for so long.

She wanted to rush out and see that Merlin was back for herself, but again she reminded herself of who she was. A sideways glance from her father wasn't lost on her, either.

"Very good. I assume guest chambers have already been arranged?" Rodor asked once he was satisfied his daughter would remain in her seat.

"Yes, My Lord."

"Send him in."

Mithian turned to her father, a quizzical look on her face. "Guest chambers?"

Rodor smiled indulgently. "Sebastian told me a bit more about your young man's errand. He didn't want to see you get yourself worked up over it. Ah, Merlin!"

He looked tired and disheveled, and very much the servant he had been a few days before. He'd left behind the clothing that Rodor had provided when he ran off that morning and had opted instead to dress as he always had.

She wanted to rush to him and feel the strength of his arms wrapping around her. But then, she noticed the woman trailing him and her breath caught in her throat. The woman was dressed just as simply as Merlin. Beyond that, there didn't seem to be anything else of importance, until she looked at Mithian. The woman had Merlin's eyes and Mithian understood right away who she was.

Merlin smiled sheepishly as he bowed in front of her father. "My Lord. I would like to apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused today."

Why did they all have to be so proper? It was too late at night and every one of them appeared ready to fall over. The woman especially seemed exhausted and on edge.

"If all this formality continues then we might as well call the servants to bring us breakfast." Mithian stood up and walked straight over to the newcomer. Holding out her hands, Mithian was happy when the older woman took them. "You must be Merlin's mother, Hunith. Welcome to Nemeth."

Hunith gave an awkward curtsy, but smiled through her fatigue; a spark of life returning to her wearied state. "And you must be Princess Mithian. I can't tell you how grateful I am that my son has found such a wonderful lady. I can see why he loves you."

"As much as I love him, though I am hopeful that you can talk some sense into him before the next time he runs off and neglects to — at the very least — say goodbye." Her chin rose and tipped away from Merlin, silently letting him know that he was in trouble. She could understand, to a point, why he had run off. Although, it would have been nice if she had been given an opportunity to prepare for her future mother-in-law's arrival. The idea that her father and Sebastian had known what Merlin's errand entailed didn't escape her. Mithian planned to have words with them, as well. But, for now, she just wanted to make sure Hunith was set up comfortably. "I am sure you must be extremely tired from your journey."

Hunith smiled and nodded. "I am, but thankful to be on solid ground, My Lady."

"Please, call me Mithian. Come, my Father has already seen to it that you will have a place to stay for as long as you wish to remain. We can get to know each other properly tomorrow."

"Thank you, My Lady...Mithian."

* * *

Merlin bit the inside of his cheek as Mithian lead his mother from the room without so much as a glance in his direction. He turned uneasily toward the king. "Sire, I…"

Rodor chuckled and waved his hand in dismissal. "She will forgive you. Have no fear."

The king stood up, and Merlin noted the amount of trouble the king seemed to have with the movement. Something about it appeared to be more than just age and arthritis, but it was late and what he was seeing could have been attributed to exhaustion. He made a mental note of being more aware in the coming days of Rodor's health. "I should probably let you rest, Sire."

"Of course. Go see to your mother's comfort. I can be properly introduced to her in the morning."

He was at the door when he heard the king call out to him.

"Oh, and Merlin. Tomorrow, you will work with my manservant to prepare you for the wedding. Is that understood? I'd hate to have all my effort in honoring your father wasted."

Cringing, Merlin gave a final bow of his head. Not only was he in hot water with Mithian, but it was clear Rodor wasn't about to let him off the hook for running away. No matter what the reason for it might have been. "Yes, Sire."

Just outside the door, he picked up a staff and a rucksack filled with books and trinkets that he had taken from underneath his bed in Camelot. There wasn't much, but they were the objects that would cause the most trouble if they were found. Gaius promised to bring the rest of Merlin's things when he came for the wedding. He moved quickly through the hallway to catch up to Mithian and his mother, but stayed a step or two behind them, not wanting to interrupt their conversation.

Mithian was trying to decide if one of her own dresses could be altered to fit Hunith, so that she wouldn't feel out of place amidst all the finery at the wedding. Cursing silently, Merlin realized that he'd forgotten to ask King Rodor if someone could be sent to Ealdor for the rest of his mother's belongings. It was too late now, he'd have to remember in the morning.

They arrived at the room next to his own, where a servant was waiting for them. The poor maid looked like she was ready to fall asleep on her feet. After giving his mother a hug, Merlin tossed his stuff into his room, while Mithian made sure that Hunith had everything she needed for the night.

"May I escort you back to your room, Princess?" He asked, holding his arm out hopefully. He held his breath as she seemed to carry on an internal debate.

"Are you sure you'd be able to find your back to your own room?"

"No," he responded without missing a beat. "But, I figure if I got lost then I'd just have to wait for you to come rescue me. Although, the last time that happened, I somehow managed to find myself thrown in the dungeons. Alright then, that settles it. Have a good night!"

Dropping his arm he started toward his own door when Mithian reached out and grabbed him. If he hadn't been expecting… or at least hoping… that she would do that, he might have lost his balance. As it was, he pretended to trip and stopped with his face just inches from hers. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps from being initially startled by his feigned fall. But, he smiled, able to see that his proximity had caused her breath to hitch and a blush to fill her cheeks.

"Fine." She took a step back and tried to regain her composure. "I will accept your company, but be forewarned that it is not a guarantee that I will accept any apology you wish to make for leaving without so much as a farewell this morning."

Stifling his laughter, Merlin didn't even attempt to hide the grin that filled his face. He held out his arm again, happy when she folded her hand in the crook of his elbow. "I wouldn't dream of asking so much of you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"That I have no plans to say I'm sorry."

Mithian sighed, her hand sagging on his arm. "I didn't mean that you shouldn't try to make amends. I was simply saying that I'm not sure if I would accept if you did."

"Exactly."

He could see the confusion on her face. If she really wanted to marry him, which he knew she did, then he wasn't going to hold back his true nature.

"I'm not sure I understand." She shook her head as they walked along.

"Well, it's like this: if I knew you would forgive me, then I'd be more than willing to grovel at your feet. However, with the threat of such uncertainty hanging over my head, what would be the point in trying to explain myself, especially this late at night. I am awfully tired, you see, from traveling all the way to Ealdor and working in the fields half the day with my mother. Look. I even have the blisters to prove it! Then, I had to convince her that I wasn't joking, I really was engaged to be married...if I still am, that is. I seemed to have neglected to report in on where I was going. So, now I'm not sure if I am actually still engaged. On top of that, the only way I was actually able to get her to ride on the back of a dragon was with the promise that she would…eventually, mind you, not right away, though I think she would prefer sooner rather than later…be a grandmother."

It took all his concentration not to react to the squeak that came from the princess. He continued rambling as if she hadn't made a sound. "After that, well I had to stop in Camelot, you see. I had a staff I stole from a banished Sidhe, a few magical stones and trinkets, and a couple of books I needed to get out of there before Arthur found them and had them burned. Or worse…locked in the vaults." He made a show of his mind seeming to wander off. "Although, if they were put in the vaults, the worse thing that could happen would that they'd be lost forever. Not that any of the gates, or doors, or guards could stop me from getting in there, but have you any idea how disorganized that place is?"

"Alright!" Her wide-eyed gaze showed clearly how overwhelmed she was from all the information. "I get it, Merlin. This 'errand' was much more important than preparing for our wedding."

The tremble in her breath told him that he had almost crossed the line. This was the point where Arthur would have yelled at him to shut up, before either throwing something at him or stalking away.

Merlin's mood sobered as they stopped in front of her door. He took her hands in his and looked at her seriously. "Not more important, no. But, it was something that needed to be done. Everything that's happened these past few days… I just needed a chance to breathe. I am sorry that I didn't tell you before I left. I knew you were looking for me, and I…" He licked his lip nervously.

"I accept."

"What?" It was his turn to be confused.

"I accept your apology. You're right. Everything has been rushed and I didn't consider that there were things you needed to do. We should have spoken more about the wedding before my father announced it. I honestly didn't realize that when I told him that we should be married soon, he would make it _that_ soon. I pushed this on you and should have been more considerate of your situation. So, will you forgive me?"

He looked down into her brown eyes. They were so deep, so filled with desire, he felt himself falling into them. "Always." Stepping into her personal space, his hands slid under her arms and around the small of her back. Her face tipped upward, her fingers wrapping around his neck, as he leaned down to kiss her gently. "Always."


	25. Awkward Moments

Sebastian's words rang true in Merlin's ears after he'd made his way back to his chambers from bidding Mithian a goodnight. He'd stared at the bed for a while, challenging its fluffiness and debating on whether or not he could cast a spell on it to make it feel more familiar. It didn't take him long to realize the futility of that idea. There was no way he could ask Mithian to sleep on the floor or even something similar to the small cot he called his own back in Camelot. She was a princess. If he was to be her husband, he realized he'd have to get used to the idea of sleeping in a real bed. For the first time, he felt giddy at the idea of actually getting married.

He wasn't even sure how long it had taken him to fall asleep, but he was awoken the next morning by a scrawny boy, whose teeth seemed too big for his face. The boy placed Merlin's breakfast on the table and drew open the curtains before informing Merlin that the king's personal servant would be in to see him shortly. Merlin didn't get a chance to question the boy as he had already scurried out of the room.

He'd barely sat down to eat, staring at the plate filled with succulent fare fit for royalty, when the wispy, white-haired man with the ponytail was upon him. Rodor's manservant seemed extremely put off from losing a whole day to prepare Merlin for the wedding. However, he had maintained an air of cool politeness and didn't utter a word about Merlin having disappeared the day before. Darvell – Merlin finally recalled the man's name – rushed him through breakfast before bringing in a tailor, followed closely by the same boy who'd woken him. The boy's arms were filled with clothing that Merlin soon found out had belonged to Rodor's sons, including some that had once been Balinor's. There was no time for an outfit to be specially made. Darvell didn't hold back his displeasure at the thought of Princess Mithian marrying someone wearing castoffs, even if they were all of finer quality than Merlin had ever dreamt of wearing.

Merlin was forced to change clothes until the best combination of items was found. The trousers were the easiest piece to fit, comfortable and a deep reddish-brown color. The shirt was softer than any Merlin had ever worn and probably one of the purest whites he'd ever seen. He realized that this was of a different type of silk than he'd come across before, or rather that he needed to take lessons from Nemeth's head laundress in how to keep the satiny texture from stiffening and the color from fading. Next, they had him try on a few doublets, only to find that Merlin's arms were a bit too long for most of the sleeves. The doublets were quickly changed out for a dark blue leather jerkin with gold trim around the neck and arm holes. The buttons were made of polished horn that felt foreign and rich.

In the middle of it all, a scholarly tutor was brought in to grill Merlin on various points of etiquette. Merlin passed with flying colors. Just because he rarely adhered to the protocols of the Court, didn't mean he was ignorant of them. Quite the opposite, in fact. Merlin smirked, knowing that he'd had to learn them all in order to throw them out the window in the most annoying manner possible when it came to serving Arthur.

At one point, Merlin thought he'd heard a ruckus in the hallway outside his room. However, when he tried to investigate, he was promptly stuck with a sharp pin that the tailor was just putting into the white tunic Merlin was wearing. A few moments later, Sebastian strolled in and gave Merlin a once over survey. There was a darkening red mark on his cheek that vaguely resembled a hand print.

"What happened to your face?" Merlin asked curiously.

"Women," he huffed as if that was more than enough explanation. But, being who he was, the burly lord had to add at least one more grumble to the statement. "They don't know how to take a compliment."

Darvell rolled his eyes and muttered something about Lord Sebastian's own issue of not knowing how to take a hint.

Either Sebastian hadn't heard, or simply ignored the manservant. Merlin assumed it was the former, since he was certain Sebastian would have had something to say if he had heard the implied insult.

"King Rodor wants us to join him for lunch. I suggest you get changed out of that fancy outfit. Wouldn't want to give the princess a sneak peak before the wedding."

Merlin tried not to laugh. His arms were stretched out and he was attempting to hold as still as he could while the tailor put the last few pins in.

"Since we are almost finished here, My Lords, I shall go see to His Majesty." Darvell didn't wait for an official dismissal from either man before he left the room.

The scholar nodded politely and informed Merlin that they would continue their lessons later that afternoon, before following the king's manservant. The tailor quirked his mouth back and forth, still filled with pins. Finally, after Sebastian had cleared his throat at least three times, the man threw up his hands and began carefully undressing Merlin with the help of the boy.

"These will just have to do. I suppose," he sighed mournfully. "At least, when these are ready, you won't quite look like a peasant anymore."

Gratefully, Merlin attempted to grab his normal clothes, only to have the boy with the big teeth shove the outfit Merlin had worn two days before into his hands.

"It wouldn't do well for you to attend a meal with the king looking like a servant, M'lord."

Merlin rolled his eyes and bit back a groan. The clothes were all wonderful, but he felt out of place wearing them. Just another thing he would get used to, he supposed.

He trailed along behind Sebastian toward the Dining Hall and nearly ran into the other's back when Sebastian stopped short, just inside the door. Squeezing around his father's cousin, Merlin shook his head in confusion, wondering what would have caused the man to halt so abruptly. Then, he saw his mother already seated at the table. Hunith was giving Sebastian a wide-eyed glare, before turning toward her son with a smile.

"Mother," Merlin reached out and took her outstretched hand.

She looked amazing. Her customary headscarf was gone. Her hair had been brushed until it shone, and then plaited into a single intricate braid down her back. She wore a simple yet elegant sage green satin gown, with tight long sleeves. Her cheeks were still slightly flushed from the whirlwind of recent events.

"Um…Have you met Lord Sebastian?" Merlin turned to introduce her and noticed the guilty way in which Sebastian refused to make eye contact.

"We had the pleasure of making each other's acquaintance in the hallway outside your room earlier," Hunith stated with a tight-lipped smirk.

Sebastian's teeth were clenched so tightly, Merlin could see the veins on the large man's neck bulging from the strain. He finally met Merlin's eyes and attempted to smile. "Your mother, eh? Figures." He then shook his head and let loose with a full belly laugh. "That twat cousin of mine always did have good taste."

Hunith was a gentle and kind woman, but Merlin now knew exactly how Sebastian had received the handprint on his face earlier. It wasn't the first time he'd known his mother to have been pushed too far from a lecherous man's advances. And knowing her the way he did, he was surprised that a slightly bruised cheek was all Sebastian had been given for his efforts.

"Lord Sebastian, I do not appreciate that sort of language in front of guests," King Rodor warned from the head of the table.

Mithian was sitting at her father's side, trying desperately not to giggle. She must have known about the altercation from Hunith's perspective and had also put the pieces together. Merlin politely addressed the king and looked at the layout of the table. There were two open chairs, one next to his mother and the other next to Mithian. He was satisfied that Hunith could take care of herself, so he chose to slide into the seat next to his intended bride.

Sebastian glared at him before reluctantly dropping into the one beside Hunith.

"This is certainly going to be an interesting wedding," Mithian whispered to her beloved.

Biting his tongue, Merlin could only nod in agreement as he watched the awkwardness unfold between his two living family members.

* * *

Gwaine was sober. That was the worst part of the ride toward the Eastern Garrison and some of the others had begun to take notice. His temper was short and his responses were more biting and less playful than normal. Gwaine cursed his best friend for putting him in this position. Mordred rode near the front, not far behind the king. The idiot was riding backward in the saddle — "melding" it, as Leon had suggested he do. The poor kid was so far beyond gullible, doing anything to try and prove himself.

Gwaine didn't know much about Mordred's life before Ismere, only that he'd been working with the slave traders that were supplying Morgana with men to work in the mines. It wasn't as if they had actually been mining for something worthwhile, he rolled his eyes remembering the odd creature who had healed him. He had a feeling that creature was what Morgana had been searching for. Merlin might know for sure. He made a mental note to ask his friend…if he ever saw him again.

Arthur seemed to have been familiar with Mordred from even before the boy had saved him from Morgana. How bad could he be? Gwaine began to tick off the few things he did know about the lad. He was an orphan — but many of the knights were in some form or another. He'd never been on a horse before Arthur had begun training him as a knight, or if he had it certainly didn't show. Although, Mordred did seem to have an oddly natural rapport with the creatures and with nature…it was almost druidic. Not that Gwaine knew much about the druid people. His own experiences had been limited, but they seemed friendly enough for forest dwellers.

Maybe that was Merlin's concern. The druids were magic users of a sort. But, Arthur had formed peaceful relations with them in recent years, so it wouldn't make sense for Mordred to hide it if he was one of them, would it?

He shook off the thought and continued his evaluation. Mordred knew the basics of how to use a sword, even though his skill improved greatly under Arthur's tutelage. That was something weird, he realized. Arthur treated Mordred as if he were his son. That wouldn't make sense. The king would have been only about fifteen, or maybe even younger when Mordred was born. It was possible, but under Uther's strict regime, Gwaine seriously doubted if it would have happened. Even if it did, the late king would have probably killed the infant the moment he was born. Aside from having blue eyes, Mordred and Arthur also looked nothing alike.

Where he'd come from was a complete mystery to Gwaine. The knight began to realize that when anyone would ask about Mordred's past, the young man did everything he could to avoid answering. It was odd, to say the least. However, Gwaine kept most of his own history hidden, as well, so he couldn't really fault Mordred for that. As hard as he tried, he just couldn't see what concerned Merlin so much.


	26. Old Tricks

 

This was it. It was probably the biggest day of Merlin's entire life. Although he hadn't had much input in the planning, as King Rodor had taken care of most of it long before Merlin was even a part of the event, it still felt as if he'd had more of a decision in this single piece of his destiny than he'd ever had before.

Sebastian was snoring away in a nearby chair, while the tailor was putting the finishing touches on Merlin's wardrobe.

He'd woken that morning in a state he hadn't been in since he was a teenager. His sheets had been twisted and soaked with sweat from the dream he'd been having about the night to come. Rubbing his hands together nervously, he released a shaky breath and hoped none of the others in the room could sense the way he still felt her body underneath him from the glorious, early morning dream.

He was more than grateful that the long jerkin he wore covered the front of his trousers. "Get it together, Merlin," he whispered to himself.

"M'Lord?" The servant boy with the big teeth, who Merlin now knew as Rupert, was barely fifteen and had been assigned to be Merlin's personal servant for the time being. The last thing Merlin wanted to do was confide in a boy half his age about how innocent he himself felt for what was to come after the ceremony.

"Nothing. Sorry. Just some pre-wedding jitters." Merlin didn't miss the way the tailor's eyes darted quickly downward with a knowing smirk.

A startled snort erupted from Sebastian when a loud knock sounded at the door. A herald peaked through the door before he slipped in and with a shallow bow, announced, "I am to inform you that many of the guests have begun to arrive. The party from the Kingdom of Camelot should be coming through the gates any moment."

Despite the tailor's protest, Merlin raced to the window with a yelp of glee. His heart was pounding with anticipation as he looked down into the Courtyard. He had to bite back the bitter disappointment when he saw only the queen, her brother, and Gaius riding up to the front steps. It was good to have them, but his eyes searched longingly for any sign of Arthur, Gwaine, or any of the other knights. He'd had a feeling that Arthur wouldn't come, but he had held out hope that Gwaine, at least, would find a way to be there.

Shaking his head, he remembered that his friend had promised to look after Arthur. It was disappointing, but there was nothing he could do about it. He made his way back to the small platform where the tailor was waiting impatiently. The pins in the man's mouth twitched with displeasure.

The herald, it seemed wasn't quite finished. "Also, Lord Travis has returned and requests a word with Lord Sebastian."

Sebastian's eyes narrowed as he scowled. Merlin watched curiously, as the large man pushed to his feet. He hadn't yet found a way to approach his new-found cousin about the conversation Mithian had overheard a few days prior. It weighed heavily on his mind, but there had been so many other things going on to prepare for this day that Merlin just hadn't found the courage to confront him.

Tomorrow, he promised himself. Tomorrow, he would confront the man with Mithian at his side for support. One more day wouldn't hurt, right?

* * *

Riding was such a normal part of his life. His father had made sure he had become accustomed to being on horseback since the moment he could sit upright in a saddle. Not that Uther had ever taken a hand in his training personally. No, his father had made sure Arthur had the best instruction a king could buy. Unfortunately, that meant Arthur's thoughts were free to wander during their journey to the Eastern Border. Even the antics of the seasoned knights, as they each tried to prank Mordred, only gave him small moments of distraction. He even indulged a bit himself by asking the young knight if his breeches were on inside out.

This was the first time in nearly ten years that Arthur had ridden out on patrol without Merlin trailing behind him. Guinevere was concerned for his safety. Deep down he was too. After speaking with her and then Gaius, he wondered how many of the accomplishments over the years had been truly his own. Merlin had been the voice of reason at times when Arthur felt unsure. He'd always tried to warn Arthur of other's deceptions before the king had begun to suspect any subterfuge. Or, a battle against the odds would suddenly turn in their favor, and they would always make it back home alive.

He wondered if he was daft for chasing after the sorcerer Osgar without his servant shadowing him. But also, how many times had Merlin's idiocy gotten them into trouble? The recent patrol to Ismere to rescue Arthur's knights was case in point. Merlin had fought him during the entire journey and then had stupidly walked into a trap when he'd seen the dead rabbits on the ground. It had been Mordred who had ultimately saved them, even though Merlin did nothing but argue about the boy's sincerity.

Arthur was determined to do this. It almost didn't matter if he died, just so long as there was proof one way or another.

He pulled up his horse to stop when Gwaine held up his hand and dismounted to inspect the ground. "It's Osgar."

Arthur followed suit and pulled off his cloak. He laid it across the saddle before drawing out his sword. The knights with him all fell in behind their king. Even though Arthur's mind had been adrift since they'd left Camelot the day before, finally receiving word that his prey might be within his grasp gave him something tangible to hold onto.

"Arthur," Percival called softly and pointed to a freshly broken branch near the side of the road. Leading away from the well-worn path, they could see recent footprints in the soft, loamy ground. "He's getting careless."

"My Lord." Mordred pointed ahead of them.

A flash of dark disappearing into the trees told Arthur that they were even closer than he'd thought. Nodding, he signaled to his knights. They cautiously split off into groups, moving as silently as they could into the surrounding forest.

* * *

Standing quietly at the door, the queen's eyes followed the jittery, pacing movements of one of her oldest friends. He hadn't yet realized that she was there, and Gwen did nothing to alert Merlin to her presence. He looked so different, decked out in his finery, but she could see he was still Merlin.

"All those years disguised as a servant. Who would have guessed the true gentleman hidden underneath."

Merlin spun around, knocking into a small table set with a pitcher of wine. The deep red liquid spilled over, splashing onto the sleeve of his tunic as he tried in vain to catch it. His cheeks were as red as the wine when he smiled up at her in embarrassment. "Gwen!... Uh, My Lady."

"You know better than that. I was your friend, long before I was your queen. Although," she moved to a dressing table nearby and dipped a hand cloth into the basin of water, before reaching for his arm to try and clean the soiled sleeve. "It appears there is much more to you than I ever would have guessed."

"Really? You know, I'm surprised you're here. I figured Gaius or Arthur would have told you…"

"They did...and...I was surprised, but also not. You know you could have told me."

"About…?" he asked hesitantly.

"All of it." She blotted the stains, careful not to spread the wine further. "Princess Mithian, for starters. I never had any idea that you fancied her."

He shrugged as the blush deepened. "I never thought I had a chance with someone like her."

"They also told me about the other thing." Gwen stopped and gave him a very direct look. She wanted him to say it. Learning that he had magic from her husband and Gaius was one thing. Hearing it from the source wouldn't change the fact that she still considered him a friend. But, after all that she had gone through as Morgana's maid, Gwen felt he owed it to her to be forthright.

Twitching nervously, his eyes darted around the room. "I never wanted to put you in danger."

She grew up in Camelot and certainly appreciated his concern, especially after she'd been accused of witchcraft herself. "Was it you who healed my father?"

The nod was so slight that she would have missed it if she'd blinked. It must have been so hard for him to keep his secret. Gwen found life difficult enough when she and Arthur were trying to hide their growing affection for one another right under Uther's nose.

"The poultice under his pillow?" Gwen pushed, trying to force him to admit it.

His lungs filled with air and he stilled before he exhaled loudly. "Yes. I only wanted to help."

She stepped back and set the cloth down on the table, though there were still pink splotches on his sleeve. "Well, then. Let me see it."

"See what?" His eyes widened in fright.

"In all my years, I have never noticed a single mark on any of Arthur's shirts, and I know for a fact you do not spend enough time doing laundry to get rid of all the stains on my husband's clothing." Smirking, she waited for his reaction. She laughed out loud when he rolled his eyes and held his opposite hand over the stained arm.

"Fordwin wamm."

The wine disappeared from the shirt easily. "So, that is how it is done."

"Yep."

"Well, now that that particular disaster has been averted… I have something for you." Gwen held out a small bundle and then chewed nervously on her bottom lip while he unwrapped it.

Inside was a scarf made of soft linen and dyed in a deep lavender color, slightly darker than the flowers she once said suited him. "Gwen…I don't know what to say."

"The proper response would be to say: Thank you. I told you long ago that it was a good color for you. It really brings out your eyes." Thin fingers took the scarf from his hands. She motioned for him to turn around as she wrapped it around his neck, tied it with a careful knot, and then began tucking it into his collar so that only the slightest hint of it showed above the gold accent. Standing beside him, she helped him settle a cape of a deep bronze tone over his clothing and adjusted the heavy, gold clasp at his shoulder to hold it. She wondered where it had come from, as the color nearly matched that of the dragon that had once attacked Camelot.

He wiped away tears of relief and Gwen had to fight to hold back her own. "Now, we'll save the crying for the actual ceremony. Well, I will anyway. I wouldn't recommend that you, as the groom, cry on your wedding day. Because ... well, you know ... it wouldn't do you any good and if Arthur were to hear about it later, you know he'd never let you live it down."

He nodded and pursed his lips tightly. "I didn't see him entering the Courtyard. Is he here?" The hopeful sincerity in his voice nearly broke her heart.

"No. He had other matters of the kingdom to attend to. Gaius, Elyan, and a few guards accompanied me today."

"Gwaine?" He asked as if he already knew the answer.

"He is with Arthur. He wanted to be here and Arthur tried to order him to accompany us. But, you know how Gwaine is - always doing his own thing. He asked me to say how sorry he was to miss this, but that he was a man of his word. He said you would understand."

"I do," Merlin whispered. She could hear the pain as he tried to accept the fact that the king had chosen to be elsewhere.

"Alright then. I requested that you be the one to escort me in. Everyone else is probably down there waiting for us already and I would hate to be the one to ruin Princess Mithian's wedding day by keeping you here with all the questions I still have."

"Soon. I promise. I'll tell you everything."

She stood at the door, holding out her hand and waiting to take Merlin's arm. "I will hold you to that."

* * *

Gwaine wound his way through the trees. He felt his heart pounding as he spotted a cloaked man sitting on a log not far ahead of him and Percival. He should have been at Merlin's wedding. Hell, they all should have. Instead, they were out here chasing a murderer. He honestly didn't care that the man was a sorcerer, though there were many who did. For some of the knights who had been given their accolades during Uther's reign, that was the most important thing — not the fact that he'd killed one of their own.

There were times when Gwaine questioned why he still followed Arthur or even stayed in Camelot, and he had to remind himself that it was because of Merlin. The younger man had ingrained himself deeply into Gwaine's life. Merlin had been the first person since Gwaine's father who believed in the man that Gwaine could become. Merlin's friendship had been given without any strings attached. From the first moment they had met, there had been a connection - almost as if Fate had brought them together. Damn Osgar to hell. If anything, he was going to pay for making Gwaine miss his best friend's nuptials.

He signaled to Percival and they slowed their pace, drawing closer to the man ahead of them. He matched the description they'd been given. But for once, Gwaine decided to play it safe. With his hand on his sword, he called out, "Who are you? What is your purpose?"

The vile man turned around with a grin. "I was beginning to fear you had taken the wrong path."

"Who are you?" Gwaine challenged again. After all that he'd learned recently about his best friend, the knight needed to be positive that this was the right sorcerer.

"My name is Osgar. And I have an important message for your king. Take me to him."

* * *

His mother was beautiful in the deep green velvet gown and emerald necklace that Mithian had forced upon her. Even though Merlin could see how self-conscious she was in such finery, Hunith wore it with pride. Emerald hair pins flashed in the light as Hunith turned to speak to Gaius, who stood proudly in his finest crimson robe. Merlin was glad that he'd stopped in Camelot to speak to him. They still had many things to discuss - many secrets that needed to be revealed - but those could wait. It saddened him to think that he wouldn't be working side by side with his mentor any longer.

Even if Merlin was allowed to return to Camelot, he'd now probably be given his own rooms in accordance with his new status. The room he'd occupied for so long had once been a storage space, Now with it in a more livable state, it would probably be filled by a new, younger boy who could serve as Gaius' dogsbody. Perhaps, the person could even be an apprentice who wouldn't suffer from some hidden, magical past or great destiny to fulfill.

Next to his mother and Gaius stood Elyan and Gwen. The queen and her brother looked on happily, rejoicing in the way Merlin was joining them in the transition to nobility. Alongside them was Merlin's newest relative, Lord Sebastian. In a way, it almost felt as if Balinor was there because of it. Although, until Merlin knew more about Sebastian and how he was involved with Lord Travis and the Disir, there was still the lingering bit of doubt.

Choking back the emotions that threatened to rise, he tried to push the noticeable absence of his other friends out of his mind. Where were they now? Gwen had said Arthur had matters of the kingdom to attend to. If it had just been the typical Council meetings or what have you, Gwaine would have been here in Nemeth. That left only one possibility: Arthur had gone on patrol for some reason and Gwaine had followed him. There was more to the situation than what Gwen had let on, Merlin was certain of it. He hoped that whatever the reason for their absence, they would be safe without him to secretly watch their backs.

The din of the crowded hall fell to a hushed whisper as the doors opened. Merlin's breath caught in his throat and his heart pounded in anticipation. A herald announced the entrance of King Rodor and Princess Mithian…his Mithian.

She was resplendent in a full-skirted pale gold gown. A bronze silken cord twisted with gold thread hugged her waist, with the ends trailing down to her bronze silk slippers. Stiff, ribbed gauze followed the curve of the sides of her delicate neck and rose slightly higher towards the back. Long, tight sleeves left just her slender fingers exposed. Her hair was pinned up and held the diadem of the Crown Princess of Nemeth in place.

A silk train flowed off her shoulders. With gold weave in one direction and bronze thread cross weave, it shone gold or bronze as the light touched it from different directions. At times, it looked solid; others, it looked translucent.

Her dress reflected in the sunlight that streamed through the windows high above them. The sparkle was almost blinding, but not as much as her beauty.

As she drew closer, he could see the subtle pattern on the tight, three-paneled bodice and the sleeves, like tiny dragon scales. The provocative decollete neckline had Merlin alternately flushing and paling as he struggled for control.

She caught his eye and her smile filled him with love for the noble-born woman who would soon he his wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big "Thank you" to wil1969 for assisting with flow this chapter and an even bigger shout out to Nance (who had aspirations of being a costume designer when she was younger) for taking a few sentences I wrote about the characters' clothing and turned them into some magnificent verbal visuals. I think she needs an award for her wedding dress design. :D There will be two chapters that span the wedding because...well, it's complicated, as you will soon read. I hope you all like it!
> 
> Some of the dialogue has been taken from episode 5x05 "The Disir"


	27. The Price

The words droned on and on. Merlin knew enough Latin to understand the gist of the blessing the man was performing, but he couldn't understand why it was taking so much time. He'd been expecting something closer to the few weddings he'd witnessed in Camelot. The Pendragon's loved their feasts and the chance for a tournament. The ceremonies themselves were fairly short and simple. The knighting ceremonies usually took longer than the weddings.

Even after having gone through a quick rehearsal the day the before, he was completely unprepared for just how long the prayer was taking. If they would cut that out, they could do a simpler blessing and be well on their way through the ceremony, and that much closer to the feast. Hell, he wasn't even certain that he would live long enough at this rate to be able to say the vows he'd practiced before he died of old age.

His mind was becoming dulled by the monotonous tone of the man above them on the dais. Although most of Nemeth respected and practiced the Old Religion, King Rodor's family was descended from Rome and the wedding ceremony was meant to merge the old and the new together. Unfortunately, that left Merlin's knees aching as he knelt next to his bride. Her arm was linked through his and her head was bowed in reverence to the prayer.

A flash of light came from behind his closed eyes and a whirlwind of sensation suddenly opened. A coin that was larger than others he had ever seen, covered with marks of the Old Religion, spun before him in the darkness, illuminating the nothingness that surrounded him. He wasn't with Mithian anymore. The priest's words fell into the background as a forest opened up around him and he was lulled into the hypnotic state of an oncoming vision.

Gwaine's sword was knocked away by a force of magic. He saw his friend reach for the dagger at his belt. Gwaine drew and stabbed, the blade landing a fatal hit on its target.

"Forþ fleoge!" A blast of uncontrolled power issued from the injured man. Gwaine and another were thrown backward into the trees.

The sorcerer rushed away from the injured knights and Merlin's consciousness followed him.

He saw Arthur ahead on the road...

* * *

"Stop!" Arthur called out. His eyes searched the edges of the forest for his knights, but only the cloaked man was to be seen. He was stumbling along as if he'd been severely wounded, with his arm wrapped around his torso.

He moved toward the king and fell to his knees just a few feet away. "Sire…My name is Osgar."

"I know who you are." The king stared at the sorcerer with disdain and curiosity. Osgar could have kept running the other way and they might never have noticed him.

"I am sent from the sacred Disir to pass judgment on Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King."

Mordred stepped up beside Arthur. "What right have you to pass judgment?"

While he was appreciative of the young man's willingness to stand up for his king, Arthur had to bite his tongue so as not to order Mordred back. Osgar had proven himself to be a dangerous opponent, certainly more than a green knight like Mordred would be able to handle. But more than that, Arthur was curious about the way the man had addressed him. He seemed to recall hearing Merlin mention something similar ... or, maybe he had just dreamed it.

Merlin should have been there with him. No, Arthur chided himself. Merlin was where he should be, far away from him. Who knows what would have happened if his former servant had been there. For all Arthur knew, Merlin might have let the man get away by causing a scene by tripping over his own toes. Although, it was also likely that Merlin would have found a way to take this man's life to protect Arthur...and none of them would have even realized it.

* * *

His arm stiffened and a cold sensation seemed to pass from his elbow into her hand. Instinctively she knew something was wrong. Their backs were turned away from the Court and the priest in front of them was in the middle of his prayer. She was grateful that no one else could see the way Merlin's eyes darted around underneath his eyelids as if he were experiencing a nightmare.

Her fear increased as his lips moved slowly, speaking words that were so soft under his breath that she couldn't make them out. Keeping her head down, Mithian tried to see if anyone else had yet to notice the spell that had come over him. It would be embarrassing if they did, but she was more worried about him in front of all these people than herself. He was having a hard time adjusting, though he'd been doing so admirably, and all for her. Even though she would willingly give up her claim on the throne if it meant staying by his side, she was grateful that a way had been found for them to be together without going that far. The last thing she wanted or needed was for the people who she would someday rule over to see her consort collapse in public.

She tightened her hold when he began to sway slightly, even though she knew that if he fell, she wouldn't be able to hold him up. For the first time since the ceremony began, she was grateful that they were kneeling and not standing for this part. It didn't offer much more leverage, but for the moment it was enough. Squeezing her hand she tried to get Merlin's attention, attempting to draw him out of the bespelled state that was holding him captive.

When that didn't work, she began pinching his arm and trying to whisper his name, hoping that something would break through.

* * *

"It is my duty to pass their judgment on to you, dread King. My sacred duty. Your hand?"

He didn't know what compelled him to comply. He should have just run the man through then and there for killing Sir Ranulf. For being a sorcerer. For being like Merlin. Yet, he didn't. He couldn't. As much as Merlin had lied and angered him, Arthur wanted to learn why. Perhaps Osgar could shed some light on it, could tell him why so many magic users turned evil like his sister had.

Osgar withdrew what appeared to be a large coin from his breast pocket. His hands were covered in his own blood, that now without the pressure on it, was seeping through the man's clothing and pooling at his knees. He placed the token into Arthur's outstretched hand. "Arthur Pendragon, it is done."

"What is the meaning of this?" Arthur was honestly curious why a man would kill a knight and cause chaos in one of Camelot's garrisons just to give him a trinket.

"It is both judgment and fate. You have waged war on the people of the Old Religion. Now the ancient gods answer you. The Disir have spoken. The circle of fate begins to close. For even as Camelot flowers, the seeds of her destruction are being sown."

Confusion clouded Arthur's face. He had made peace with the druids and only those who deserved it had been brought to justice under his reign. It had been his father who had waged the war, not him. A corner of his mind wondered if Merlin had somehow arranged this as a lesson. He felt his ire rise. Outwardly, Merlin was an idiot, but how well did he really know the man? After all that they had been through, could he really say for sure that this wasn't a plot for Merlin to find his way back to Camelot?

No. Sir Ranulf had been killed on the same day that Merlin had been brought before King Rodor in chains. There was no way he could have orchestrated such an elaborate and deadly plot, even if he did have the motivation. The dragon, perhaps? Had he somehow sensed Merlin's distress and set this plan in motion? According to Gaius, the dragon wasn't such a petty creature. Hell, if he wanted Arthur dead that badly, he could have dropped out of the sky at any moment and burned them all to a crisp.

That left only one person who Arthur knew that had enough sway within the followers of the Old Religion. Morgana.

His lips curled into a sneer wondering if this was her doing. "What nonsense is this?" he demanded.

Osgar curled around his wound, his life pouring out of him. "It's not too late, Arthur. Not too late to find the true path. Redeem yourself. No further chance shall be given."

* * *

_"It is not too late, Merlin…"_

_No, that wasn't right, the man had said Arthur's name. And his name was spoken softly, in a beautiful voice wrought with desperation._

_"Redeem yourself…" Osgar's voice echoed._

_What did he have to seek redemption for?_

_"Come back to me…" The other voice again, the one that promised him solace._

He was caught between the worlds but there was a line, like a ribbon fluttering just before his vision. It promised warmth and safety, and the comfort of coming home. A battle waged inside him. He needed to be at Arthur's side, even though the threat of Osgar seemed to have died in his vision.

The evenly spoken words of the pious man above him changed from the monotonous din and became clearer with each moment. A sharp pain on his arm startled him into gasping and brought him back to the present. Arthur wasn't there, but now Merlin knew where he had been and what had taken place.

Reaching across himself he placed his free hand on top of Mithian's and gave a light squeeze. The pinching stopped and her hand relaxed. He shifted his eyes, bleary and stinging from the vision, up to her face and noticed the immediate relief in the tightness surrounding her lips.

The priest spoke the final words of his blessing and bid the couple rise. For a second, Merlin wasn't sure if his legs would hold his own weight. But, he forced himself to be steady at the moment. If he could just get through the final parts, then he could deal with the rest afterward.

This wasn't the first time he'd found himself recuperating from such an event. The Cailleach had been the worst, when she had appeared to him on Samhain eve so long ago. But he could also recall when the Mage Stone had been used in Camelot by the renegade sorcerer Tauren when Gwen's father naively helped him convert lead to gold. It created a similar effect — only that time, he'd been awoken from a deep sleep and couldn't recall seeing it clearly. When Kilgharrah first called to him, it had been gentle, as had the times the druids had spoken to his mind. They all had the same feeling of otherworldliness, though this was the first time he could recall actually seeing beyond his immediate surroundings to the event taking place.

If it hadn't been for Mithian's close presence, her hand touching him and grounding him to the present, he was sure he would have collapsed. Eyes as dark as the woodland forests, searched his face with concern as they turned to gaze at each other. There was such peace inside them and he couldn't help but smile.

Mithian spoke the words of her vow to him; practiced and rehearsed with no room for spontaneity. He would have to find a way to give her a true peasant's wedding after this. One filled with mirth and merriment; laughter and gaiety. It would mean getting married twice, technically. However, he was fine with that, as he was sure she would be. It was his turn next and his mind went blank. Rigidity had never been his calling. He lived and acted in the moment, with only the occasional spoken spell needing to be practiced to perfection.

He worried when she pursed her lips tightly, waiting for him to recite the formal words. Off to his right, the priest began to whisper, his words carrying the tempo of poetry. It then occurred to Merlin that the man was quietly helping him out by prompting him line-by-line. Quickly catching on, Merlin spoke the vows, managing to only make a few slight mistakes, which he hoped no one would ever remember.

Once that was done came the part Merlin had been looking forward to. He was really glad that he hadn't passed out and missed the most important part. At the urging of the priest, Merlin leaned over and gently kissed his new wife.

The crowd cheered as the new couple turned to face the people in the Great Hall. The priest behind them announced the union was complete and formally acknowledged Lord Merlin of Gedref as consort to the Crown Princess of Nemeth.

"Are you alright?" Mithian asked, still concerned about the episode Merlin had experienced.

"I am now," he responded, grateful that the cacophony of the guests kept him from being heard by anyone but Mithian. "I'll tell you about it later."

As much as Merlin wanted to summon Kilgharrah and have the dragon take him immediately to Arthur's location, there didn't appear to be any urgent reason for him to leave his own wedding. With the sorcerer in his vision dead, it meant that the king and his knights were safe for the time being. Destiny wasn't going to force his hand on this night, but neither was She willing to let Merlin escape without a price.


	28. The Afterparty

 

Fanciful music filled the Banquet Hall as the harpist deftly plucked the strings and the deeper brassy tones of a dulcimer joined the quick tempo. Other musicians played a variety of percussion and wind instruments in harmony. Lords and ladies danced in the center of the room; bowing, twirling and clapping. As the groom, Merlin had been expected to dance with his new bride. Somehow he'd managed to fall in step with the others on the open floor and not make a total fool of himself.

Mithian smiled proudly at him and complimented his footwork. They'd only had a short time after lunch the day before to go through the footwork before they were whisked off in separate directions as the preparations continued late into the evening.

After the dance, he stood with Mithian near the Royal Table. They sipped wine and entertained the various courtiers coming up to congratulate them while seeking blessings of good fortune for themselves from Nemeth's future queen. He kept trying to step into the background almost making a game of it. Nobility wanted to be noticed. Very few of them had the ability to fade out of plain sight by adopting the demeanor of a servant. The first couple of times Mithian had turned to introduce him, only to stare at the vacant spot and realize that he was just a couple of steps back, standing unassumingly behind her. After that, a firm grip on his elbow insured that he wouldn't disappear as he was presented to the guests.

She hadn't asked him about the episode during the wedding ceremony again. Between the initial feasts and all the toasts, followed by the dancing and now this, he hadn't had the opportunity to take her aside in order to tell her about it either. He was starting to get bored and worn down as one introduction began to blend into the next. Merlin wouldn't be able to remember the names of any of the people he'd met if his life depended on it.

Finally, a light at the end of the tunnel appeared.

Mithian and Merlin bowed when Gwen appeared before them. Her smile was brighter than Merlin had seen it in a while. She was truly happy for him and that made the news he wanted to share with her that Arthur was fine, all the better.

"Princess Mithian. Lord Merlin. Congratulations once again on a beautiful wedding ceremony."

Merlin couldn't hold back. It didn't matter how inappropriate the behavior was, or who would whisper about his lack of manners. He stepped forward and gave his oldest friend a hearty embrace.

She laughed and patted his back before pushing him away. "You will need to learn, Merlin…"

"Yeah, but not tonight." He stepped back to Mithian's side and took his wife's hand.

"Honestly, I hope he never learns, as it is a part of who he is," the princess told the queen.

Gwen shook her head and bit her bottom lip. "That is true. Besides, if he hasn't learned by now from serving my husband, then there probably little hope for it to ever happen."

Gaius stood just behind Gwen, barely keeping his composure. "My Lady. My Lord." He straightened from a deep bow. "Oh, Merlin is quite smart. I'm sure with the proper motivation he can learn a good many things."

"Proper motivation being someone not throwing things at my head every other day," Merlin deadpanned.

"But, that always looked like so much fun!" Mithian stuck out her bottom lip in a pout.

Merlin leaned over and kissed his wife's cheek. "Fine, as long as you promise to kiss it and make it better afterward, you can throw anything you like at my head, My Lady."

Gaius grinned and moved forward to give Merlin a hug of his own. "Well, I for one, am just glad to see someone who truly appreciates your talents."

"Speaking of…" Merlin started, rubbing the back of his neck. "I think I somehow acquired a new one."

Gaius' eyebrow rose, while the ladies also looked at him in curiosity.

"During the middle of the ceremony, I sort of had a vision…I guess that's what it was, anyway."

"Is that what was happening?" Concern laced Mithian's voice.

"It's alright, though. I mean, I really didn't like that it happened in the middle of our wedding. But well, that priest was about to put me to sleep anyway…"

"Merlin!" Gaius admonished, trying to keep his former ward from digressing. He lowered his voice to just above a whisper. "What did you see?"

Flicking his eyes back and forth between the three of them, he finally settled on Gwen. "I saw Arthur." Merlin quickly added, "He's fine. The man they were after is dead and no one else was hurt."

"You really saw him? But, how?" Gwen's face pinched with worry before she re-adopted a pleasant demeanor.

"I'm not sure. Like I said, I kind of felt like I was falling asleep. Then, it was as if I was by his side. I could see and hear everything that was happening even though I couldn't interact. The weird thing was that the man didn't even try to attack Arthur. He just wanted to give him something." His eyes shifted to Mithian, knowing that she would understand the significance. "Osgar gave him a Runemark from the Disir."

Gwen looked confused, while Gaius gasped and turned pale. He immediately asked if Merlin was certain he'd heard correctly. Mithian stiffened and her dark eyes searched the room.

"Lord Sebastian," she called to the hefty man, who was currently chatting flirtatiously with a young noblewoman.

Sebastian glanced up at her summons and excused himself from the conversation. He bowed before Mithian, and again to Gwen, while glancing skeptically at Camelot's queen and physician. "Majesties."

"A few days ago, I overheard you and Lord Travis speaking in the southeast corridor. I believe the word 'Disir' was mentioned."

Merlin nearly choked at the way all the blood seemed to drain from his cousin's face. He couldn't help but add his own comment, directed at his wife, but meant to elicit a reaction from Sebastian. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. Lord Travis also requested Sebastian's presence this morning, before the wedding. After what I experienced, I don't think it's a coincidence."

"I would have to agree with you, my love. Do you have anything you would like to say, Lord Sebastian?"

"I already spoke to your father about all this. It seems to me, you already know who we're dealing with." Sebastian wiped the sweat from his brow and looked at the head of the Royal Table where the king sat. "I tried to get out of it, once the whole thing with Merlin here came out. This morning was just Travis telling me it would happen today and give me one more chance to join him. It was your father who suggested..."

The conversation froze as the music suddenly ended. Merlin noticed how everyone was turning toward King Rodor, who had stood up and was raising his cup.

Merlin tried not to flinch as his hand was suddenly being squeezed with more strength than he'd thought possible. "What is it? What's wrong?" He whispered, not paying attention to what the king was saying.

Mithian turned to him, her face flushed with excitement. "It's time."

"Time for what?" Merlin knew he was completely missing the obvious.

Gwen covered a giggle with a cough. "Merlin, do you recall what happened on my wedding night to Arthur? After the feast, of course."

Rolling his eyes, Merlin shook his head. He wanted badly to erase the images from his mind as he had helped an all-too-eager Arthur undress. He stood there gaping as the realization hit him. "Oh…oh! Me… and you…" He said, turning to Mithian as a wide grin spread across his face.

Snorting, Sebastian gave Merlin a hearty pat on his shoulder. "I suppose this means we'll be putting off the rest of this discussion until tomorrow."

* * *

Merlin's expectations were completely dashed when they finally made their way out of the Banquet Hall. They were led through a shower of fragrant petals, and into the wing of the castle that housed the Royal Chambers. Upon arriving, he was forced to let go of Mithian's hand. While she was taken into her bedchamber with Gwen, Hunith, and her maid, Merlin was escorted to an adjoining room to wait. He paced around nervously after Darvell and the boy from earlier removed his cloak, neckerchief, and jerkin.

The separation, he discovered, was to allow the other women to help Mithian out of her wedding gown.

"If you wish to start a war with the tailor and quite possibly every seamstress in the kingdom, then, by all means, go in there and remove the dress yourself," Darvell explained.

Merlin didn't want to explain that after dressing Arthur for years in his armor, he probably had all the skills needed to carefully remove the dress himself. Plus, if all else failed, he could have used some magic to assist him.

Time dragged on until he didn't think he could stand it anymore when a maid came in and announced that the princess was ready. Merlin was shoved through the door and he barely heard it close behind him.

His feet were glued to the floor. His eyes frozen on her. If Gaius had checked him for a pulse, he wasn't sure if there would be one. But, of course, there would be, because he could hear his own blood pounding madly in his ears. Maybe it was his breath that he wouldn't show any signs of. Yes, that was it. He'd forgotten how to breathe as he gazed across the room.

Candles glowed from all about the room, bathing her in a golden light that caught the soft honeyed highlights in her dark hair. The long locks hung over her shoulders and down the front of her flimsy nightdress. He could see her breasts rise and fall underneath as she stared across the room at him.

He smiled at her and she returned it, for the first time seeming as nervous as he felt. His hand went to the back of his neck and rubbed it, trying to figure out what to say. "You look so beautiful."

Mithian giggled and blushed. "That is nice of you to say from all the way over there."

"Oh! Yeah, right. Sorry." He shouldn't have been this anxious, but the reality of the situation began setting in. Tentatively he moved toward her, noticing how he could see the silhouette of her body through the wispy, thin fabric. He swallowed hard against the rising heat that began to fill his body. Each step added to his growing anticipation until he was only a few inches away from her.

He cautiously reached up and placed his hands on her shoulders, carefully pushing her hair back before letting his eyes drift down. Merlin inhaled sharply as the dark peaks were barely concealed through her dress. A tightening in his trousers made him aware of the need that was growing stronger as his fear fell away.

His eyes closed with a soft moan when her hands reached out and slid underneath the hem of his shirt. He was glad that Darvell had taken the jerkin and neckerchief from him in the other room. The buttons and laces from the overcoat would have been far too impeding, and Gwen's careful knot in the new neckerchief might have found itself cut with magic.

Merlin raised his arms up, as Mithian lifted the shirt. He couldn't handle her being so close and not touching her that he pulled it up the rest of the way and threw it off to the side before he grabbed her. Pulling her tightly against him, he swooped down and kissed her with a burning passion.

No one - not Arthur, the Great Dragon, or even the Triple Goddess Herself could stop him tonight. After years of secretly wooing her, in a matter of days, she had become completely his.


	29. Grave Concerns

 

"You won't tell anyone?"

The wide-eyed, almost frightened innocence of the young knight had Gwaine questioning his own motives. After the encounter with Osgar, the kid had wandered off while the others were preparing to depart. Gwaine had gone to find him and discovered Mordred stacking rocks. It had been clear that he was leaving a marker for where the sorcerer had fallen. It had been Gwaine's dagger that had dealt the mortal blow, however despite that, Osgar hadn't actually hurt any of them too badly. Well, that wasn't exactly accurate, Gwaine thought as he rubbed the lump on his head. Maybe he could have advanced on the man differently, but all he'd seen at the time was a sorcerer who had killed one of his fellow knights. If he honestly considered the story they'd been told when they'd reached the Eastern Garrison, he had to wonder if Osgar had approached them with the same demand to see the king and just like he had, Ranulf had overreacted.

Snorting softly to himself, he realized that they always overreacted when it came to magic. He only had to remember the reason Merlin wasn't with them to see that.

"Sorcerers aren't allowed marked graves. But, no. I won't tell anyone. So long as you tell me why you're doing it." Maybe he could turn this situation into something favorable and get a bit more information out of the mysterious young man.

Mordred hesitated. He seemed embarrassed to answer the question. "He could have been like me, because I'm a druid…Or my father was, anyway."

"You're a magic user?"

"No, not anymore," Mordred stated immediately. "I wouldn't betray the king like that."

"So, Arthur doesn't know," the older knight concluded.

"He knows."

Gwaine's brow furrowed. Something wasn't adding up. Arthur would never willingly enlist a magic user to be a knight. He might have accepted druids as a peaceful people and given them leeway in his kingdom, but it still didn't make sense — especially after the tantrum he threw over Merlin's family history — that Arthur would personally train one. He wondered if that was part of the reason Merlin was concerned, that perhaps Mordred had cast some sort of charm on the king to get in his good graces.

"I was barely nine years old when I accompanied my father into the market in Camelot to trade some herbs. The buyer had betrayed my father, though. He was caught by the guards and executed. I managed to escape, but was injured. Merlin…" He cringed and seemed to catch himself.

"I know about Merlin."

Mordred's eyes widened in shock. "Is that why he's…?"

"Something like that." Gwaine wasn't about to admit to anything outright, but a little bit of inference went a long way with the impressionable young man.

The boy breathed a little easier. "Merlin helped take care of my wound, while Morgana hid me. Then, Arthur found out and helped me escape."

Gwaine sucked in his bottom lip and chewed on it a bit. It explained why the king had a rapport with the boy who had saved his life in Ismere. Mordred was returning the favor. A life for a life. Unless it was all some sort of elaborate setup. By the gods, what had he gotten himself into when he promised Merlin to keep an eye on Arthur and the kid? It might have been easier to swallow if he had a strong drink to wash it down.

"Speaking of Arthur, we should get back." Gwaine turned and headed back to where the others waited. He couldn't wait to get back to Camelot where he'd tell the king to shove it for a few days while he went to see Merlin. There was so much more to it all and if he was going to continue to help, he needed to know everything.

* * *

 

There was a stillness in the forest, as if the entire world was holding its breath, waiting for him to do something. What could he do? He'd grown up hating magic and everything it stood for. He didn't want to, but then people like Osgar would appear and solidify his father's teachings. He turned the golden disk over in his hands, carefully searching the markings for anything that made sense. Nothing did. Not the piece of gold in his hands, not the situation with the man who had been his best friend, not the reason one of his boyhood companions had been killed. His father, his sister, his mother…

Sometimes Arthur wondered what he was fighting for. Each time he thought he'd been making progress in stepping out of the long shadow cast by his father, he found that his father's influence was still there; still forcing him to combat the ghosts that haunted Camelot. How far back did they go? How old were those lingering spirits?

An owl hooted somewhere off in the distance, its haunting call tormenting him as he kept watch with his men. The sound was drawn out and lonesome.

Uther would have brought servants and a tent for himself, ordering those around him to keep guard and maintain the perimeter of the camp. Arthur wasn't like that. He wanted to be one of his men; to be accepted as more than just their liege. He wondered if he would have noticed more if he had kept himself aloof, as his father had done. But, had he followed his father's example, Arthur would have missed so much. He might not have fallen in love with Guinevere, nor granted knighthood to common men. His eyes scanned the camp. Leon stood on watch on the opposite side. He was the only knight born of nobility who always accompanied Arthur. The rest of his core group was made up of a blacksmith, a farmer, a drunk, and now, perhaps, a druid.

They were good fighters and loyal men, many of whom had trained together most of their lives. How had he come to inspire such loyalty from such men? His father had motivated by fear, ruling his subjects with an iron grip, and it had turned on him; creating dissension and chaos that followed Uther throughout his years. How long would Uther's deeds, good or bad, follow him? Arthur wondered.

The moon began to drop into the west. It would only be a few hours until the sun rose, and Arthur had already been up most of the night. He was actually running on less sleep than normal since the day after the feast in Nemeth. Guinevere and Gaius had both helped to ease his fears when it came to Merlin's overall intention, but he couldn't stop the internal fight that raged on over the issue of magic. Was it good? Was it evil? Was it simply a tool? The biggest question still lingered, and Arthur was no closer to an answer.

The entire patrol to capture Osgar had felt wrong from the start, even though he'd done everything he could to try and distract himself. He'd mentally cursed Merlin for having kept so many secrets. After all that he had gone through, he still couldn't rid himself of the feelings of betrayal. Not because Merlin had magic or even that he was a Dragon Lord. The thing that caused Arthur's heart to wrench the most was that time and time again, Merlin had appeared to side with Uther on the position of magic. How could he trust someone who couldn't even be true to himself?

Arthur could look into a mirror and know the man gazing back at him. He'd never been good at lying. He knew how and when to keep key pieces of information to himself, or when to twist them slightly for the betterment of his kingdom. He always looked for the best in people and held them to a high level of expectation that they would be just as honest with him. That was what truly hurt the worst. He knew that others weren't like him, but he'd never expected it out of someone like Merlin.

Turning the coin over once more before stuffing it into his pocket, Arthur wondered what Merlin would think of this judgment. Before being exposed for what he really was, Arthur was certain Merlin would have fallen back on the same actions of self-preservation. Merlin's own skewed logic leading him to believe that he was protecting Arthur by doing it. But, what would he do now? It wasn't as if he could hide who he was any longer. That ship had sailed the moment King Rodor had begun his interrogation. Arthur had always assumed that Merlin was like him, wearing his heart and soul on his sleeve for the world to see. He didn't know now how much of it had been an act. What would it take for the man Arthur once trusted more than anyone else to be honest to not only Arthur but to himself as well?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all! Sorry for the long delay. End of summer, my kid is finally in school and things are calming down at last. I can now breathe deeply in the silence of an empty (and soon to be clean) house. Aaaaaaahhhhhh.
> 
> Ok, so quick note: As some of you may know, TheHeartofCamelot. com website is no longer :( BUT! In its place has come a new multi-fandom forum site and new story archive. Whimsicalwanderings.net I don't have all my stories up there yet, however, what I do have between chapters 28 and 29 of this story is an "M" rated bonus scene of the wedding night. It is only found through writings.whimsicalwanderings.net This is a way to help promote that site and my stories there.
> 
> Check it out, if you're feeling adventurous!
> 
> As always, thank you to Wil1969 for the artwork and critical read-through, and to Nance for her great proofreading/line editing. Also, to all you wonderful readers, especially those who take the time to bookmark, leave kudos, and comment on this story!


	30. New Directio

By the Gods, he was having that dream again! The same one that had haunted him every night since the day he had shielded Mithian from Odin's men in the forest outside the tomb.

The woman of his fantasies was touching him, caressing him, kissing his body. Her fingers raked gently through the dark hair on his chest and grazing over his nipples before feeling their way down to his stomach and then even lower. He felt his body awakening to her subtle persuasion. Merlin dared not open his eyes, knowing that the moment he did he would find himself alone, just as he had during the previous times.

There must have been something in his face that alerted Mithian to the fact he was half-awake. He squirmed as he felt her hot breath against his ear, softly whispering his name. When she kissed him, it was unlike the surreal, sleeping moments he'd experienced before, and then his memory of the previous night came back to him. Dilated pupils, outlined in dark blue finally appeared through his cracked lids as he gazed upon his new wife, ecstatic to find that she wasn't just a dream.

* * *

He nearly collapsed on top of her. His body was exhausted now that he was fully convinced she wasn't a fantasy. He rested his weight on his elbows, his arms trembling, but holding. They kissed each other gently murmuring words of endearment after their lovemaking. He smiled and chuckled when he caught her staring at him with an odd expression. "What?"

"Your eyes. At the end there, I thought they glowed."

Rolling onto his side, his eyebrows pinched quizzically. He hadn't cast any sort of spell. He didn't need to. His control over his innate magic had become strong in the past years and he couldn't recall the last time he'd used any without thinking about it. The instinctual spells from his youth were nearly non-existent, having been replaced by learned magic under Gaius' tutelage. "Uh… are you sure?"

"Well…" She ran a manicured finger down his chest. "I'm pretty sure, but I wasn't really, completely focused on it. Maybe it was just the sun reflecting off them."

He could tell that she honestly believed his eyes had glowed, even though Mithian was trying to soften the idea by finding a plausible reason for it. The thing was, Merlin didn't feel as if he had performed any magic. Shifting onto his back, his new wife snuggled up against him, using his arm as a pillow, while she twirled the dark hair across his chest. Perhaps time had slowed for a few seconds at the end, allowing him to draw out his own sensations, but he was pretty sure that hadn't been it. Hell, for all he knew it might be normal for anyone possessed of magic to have some leak out during the finale. It wasn't as if he'd had many opportunities to find out. Occasionally, he would relieve himself. But, he was usually too exhausted from work at the end of the day to even worry about such needs. The ability to sleep in and wake up with the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes upon was such a novelty. Magic or dream, he could definitely get used to this.

They laid together, listening to each other's breathing as the minutes passed by; relishing in the closeness they shared. Outside the curtained bed, Merlin heard the sound of the door unlatch and quiet footsteps creeping into the room. After years of servitude, he knew when whoever it was had set a tray on the table near the other side of the room. The person moved again. Then he could hear when the wardrobe was opened, the sound of rustling cloth being extracted and probably hung or laid across the top of the dressing screen. A few other chores were done, including his own scattered clothing and boots being moved away from the bed.

He would have performed a quick polish on the toes before placing them neatly at the foot of the bed, just under the bench that resided there. Curtains were drawn open and windows unlatched to allow a fresh breeze to clear out any lingering smells in the room. Personally, he would tear them open just as the sun was streaming in across the head of the bed with a call of 'Rise and Shine' or some other such nonsense meant to wake Arthur. He'd fallen out of that habit for a while after Arthur and Gwen were first married, during the time they often shared a bed. On those occasions, the bed curtains were usually closed, but the need for that had become rarer as Gwen spent more time in her own chambers. He wrapped his arm around Mithian tighter and hoped they'd never find the need to sleep in separate rooms.

The servant left the room and once again the sounds of their breathing was the only thing to accompany the silence. Merlin began to wonder what Arthur was doing. Who would be his servant now? Would they wake him up in the same, brash manner? Would Merlin have his own servant to wake him and bring him breakfast, or was today just special? No, Mithian was a princess. She'd had a servant of her own long before Merlin had even become one. As nice as it was to simply lay there and be still, his mind kept wandering to the tasks the servant had performed while they had just lounged in the bed.

"What is on your mind?" she asked softly, gazing up at him.

"That I don't think I've ever, not once in my life, been afforded the ability to just lounge around naked long after the sun had risen. I really think we should make this a habit."

Mithian giggled and pushed up on her elbow. "What were you really thinking?"

"That as much as I would like to stay here all day with you, I know someone brought some food in."

"Mmm, breakfast does sound like a good idea."

Kissing her as he sat up and untangled himself from her he said, "I live to serve." He swung his legs off the edge of the bed and searched the area for his trousers or some drawers… or a robe. He just wanted something to cover himself with as he walked through the room.

"Something wrong, my love?" Mithian asked, noticing his reluctance.

"Uh… well, I can't seem to find my trousers or a robe."

"So?" She laughed at the way he fumbled in embarrassment.

"What if someone were to come in and see me gathering up food without a stitch on?"

"Then they would see the most magnificent man who ever walked the earth and they should be grateful for the opportunity."

He glared at her, trying to determine if she was joking, but all he saw in her eyes was her love and admiration focused solely on him. He didn't have the body of a knight, hardened and trained for combat. Strolling around completely naked in front of open windows was something Arthur or Gwaine might do, but he wasn't as self-assured as they were. Yet, in her gaze, he began to feel that maybe he could be. Sighing, he pushed off the bed and tried to maintain his composure as he walked across the room. He was happy to find his clothing folded neatly at the end of the bed and decided to go ahead and pull on his trousers before making a plate at the table and bringing it back to serve Mithian. As he did, though, he saw a scrap of parchment flutter to the floor. It had been tucked into the folds and hidden away from prying eyes. He picked it up and gave it a cursory glance. It was a request to meet alone behind the stables that afternoon, but there was no name attached to it.

For a few moments, he just stared at it. He wondered what kind of trouble he'd be inviting if he did as it requested, or perhaps he'd find more problems if he didn't.

"Merlin?" Mithian's voice called to him from behind the curtained poster bed. "What is taking so long?"

He quickly stuffed the note into one of his boots. There was still time to decide what he should do. Out of habit, he didn't even consider bringing up the issue to Mithian. "Nothing, just trying to decide what you would like best from all this food. If you were Arthur, I'd just throw on some sausage and cheese."

"If I was Arthur?" she asked sardonically. "And how many times have you woken up naked next to him?"

He floundered and gaped. "That is not what I meant!"

* * *

Everyone was quiet on the ride home. Well, quieter than they had been on the way out to the Western Garrison. It had been considered a successful patrol, but as with the ride out, something was missing. There was no joy in the way Osgar had met his fate, no sense of accomplishment for avenging a fallen brother. Mordred rode near Gwaine for a while, trying to engage the older knight in conversation, but Gwaine just wasn't in the mood to talk to the young man.

It hadn't taken long before Mordred encouraged his horse into a trot to catch up with some of the others who, while still somewhat subdued, seemed more lively than Gwaine. Leon noticed the lack of response from his friend and finally slowed down to move alongside the roguish knight.

"Something on your mind?" He asked, even though he suspected it had much to do with the same thing that had plagued Gwaine's mind on the ride back from Nemeth to Camelot a few days earlier. It wasn't quite a sense of deja vu, as Gwaine's eyes kept drifting to the newest knight.

"Nope," Gwaine responded shortly.

Leon pursed his lips in thought, trying to find a way to break through the wall of secrecy that surrounded his friend. He disliked word games. Leon wanted his questions from anyone answered promptly, but it had never been easy with Gwaine. "Do I need to know more about the promise you made to Merlin?" he asked, referring back to the conversation they'd had upon their last return to Camelot from Nemeth.

Gwaine let his hair fall in front of his face, a shielding move that made his eyes nearly unreadable through the shadow it cast. Just the subtle movement let Leon know his question was focused in the right direction. The way Gwaine kept cautiously glancing at Mordred told Leon even more.

"Do you know Mordred's history?" Leon asked. "In relation to Camelot, I mean."

"Some of it." Gwaine brushed the long bangs back. "Mordred told me how he met Arthur after we'd escaped from Morgana. But, I think there's more to it."

After escaping from Ismere with Mordred's help, Arthur had explained to Leon how he'd met the boy years before and assisted him in escaping Uther's wrath. Leon recalled how he had just returned from patrol when he'd first heard about the druid man who had been executed and the continuing search throughout the city for the missing druid boy.

He also knew, but hadn't yet told Arthur, how twice afterward Mordred had been spotted in the middle of other altercations. Once, when Morgana had gone missing and she was presumed to have been abducted by the druids after her magic started becoming apparent. The knights had attacked the camp she was being held in, and Leon had personally seen a boy fitting the description perfectly. The second time was when the outlaw Alvarr had attacked Camelot and stolen something from the vaults. Leon hadn't witnessed it himself, but another knight had commented on seeing the same boy running away from the sorcerer's camp.

For all he knew, Arthur might have already known about those incidents. Added to the fact that Mordred had been working for the slavers and Morgana, it had Leon originally questioning Arthur's choice in knighting Mordred. However, nothing that he had seen since would indicate any sort of deception from the young man. He couldn't imagine what Mordred's life had been like. Always being hunted by a king simply for existing; having his entire world torn out from underneath him on multiple occasions. It was a miracle that he had survived after being dealt such heartache at a young age.

Leon had come to admire Mordred's strength of character. He was eager to please and happy to do anything to fit in. Arthur had been training him personally and Leon began to accept the young man into the folds. Mordred had been responsible for saving more than just Arthur in Ismere. His assistance had also saved Gwaine and the other knights who had been held captive. Until the recent upset with Merlin, Gwaine had seemed quite taken with Mordred, as well.

Merlin, on the other hand, had always acted as if he were suspicious of the young knight's intents. There were times that Leon had thought Merlin was following Mordred around, waiting for the boy to do or say something wrong. Now, with the truth about Merlin known and Gwaine's sudden change of disposition, Leon wondered if he needed to take a step back and re-evaluate the entire situation. Merlin had been among the first to question Morgana's intentions when she'd returned after being held by the witch Morgause. Then again, it had been Merlin who had suspected Lord Agravaine of treachery.

Leon dropped back even further behind the company of the knights traveling back to Camelot. He was grateful that Gwaine had done the same. There was never much privacy while out on patrol, but the added space between their horses and the others was at least something. "Did Merlin tell you why he suspects Mordred?"

"No. I think that's what annoys me the most. I trust his judgment and I promised him I'd look after Arthur, especially where Mordred was concerned. I've seen a few things, but nothing that says he's doing anything to harm Arthur."

Chewing on his lower lip, Leon wondered what Gwaine had seen. But, this wasn't the time or place to ask. "I know Arthur's wondering what has been going on with you these past few days. I'll go speak to him about you taking some time off to head to Nemeth. You are obviously moping about missing the wedding and all the drink that would go along with it."

Gwaine rocked his head back and forth. "Yeah, but..."

"But, it will also give you a chance to question Merlin more. If the king's safety is at stake, we need to know why. I'll keep an eye on them until you can report back." It wasn't the best plan, but it was the only path Leon could see available to them at the current time.

Gwaine nodded. "The crossroads back about two leagues would be the quickest way for me to get there. I could reach Nemeth sometime tonight if I ride straight through."

"Go. I'll make sure Arthur understands." He held out his arm and Gwaine reached across the space between the horses to clasp Leon's wrist.


	31. Restless

Merlin was beginning to feel restless. Lounging about was a completely foreign concept. He needed to do something. By midday, he was feeling so anxious that his hands nearly trembled with the lack of tasks.

Mithian was quickly becoming annoyed. She had started out laughing at the little chores he would do - picking up laundry, making the bed, and such. It had started making him edgy, and the paper in his boot kept reminding him of the secret meeting someone wish to have with him. He hadn't told Mithian, nor had he seen Gaius yet to speak with his mentor about the note and the conversation they had started near the end of the wedding feast. The physician had been with King Rodor since the newly wedded couple had finally decided to leave their room. Later, when they finally joined Gwen and Elyan for an afternoon picnic in the garden, Merlin was feeling guilty as he heard the total exasperation in his new wife's voice.

Gwen laughed as he'd run off out of the garden to fetch more wine, while a very confused servant looked on from nearby. When Merlin returned, he sent a smile of gratitude as he heard the Queen explaining how hard it had been for her own transition from servant to master. She told Mithian just to give Merlin a little bit of time. Not long after though, he was ready to start pacing like a caged animal from the lack of things to do. Elyan finally decided - at his sister's urging - to take Merlin and check on the horses and guards to see that they'd be ready to leave in the morning to return to Camelot.

"You know, at least when I became a knight I had something to do."

For a moment, Merlin wasn't sure what to make of Elyan's statement. They had never really been close, not like he was with Gwaine. The only thing they really had in common, aside from following Arthur around, was Gwen. Since Elyan had joined the ranks of the knights, Merlin hadn't really ever had a chance to get to know him as anyone other than Gwen's brother. They were friendly and shared jokes when out on patrol, but Merlin wouldn't have considered the other man as an actual friend. Yet, Elyan had been the closest thing to a male friend he'd known the past couple of days.

There was perhaps one other thing they both shared: a unique history of having been part of the working class before finding themselves thrust into a new way of life. "Oh?" Merlin's eyebrows rose inquisitively.

"I mean, sure I had things to do before. Like trying to restart my father's forge once I'd returned to Camelot. Then, I was expected to set that aside to be a knight. With the training schedule and learning how to properly use the weapons, I didn't have a chance to be idle."

"Are you suggesting that I actually pick up a sword and learn how to use it now that I'm a noble? Arthur would be so pleased," Merlin drawled out with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

"Don't give me that. I've seen you on the training grounds, you aren't that bad. Arthur has always been harder on you than anyone else he trained. He just wanted to make sure you had enough skills to keep you safe."

"I'm not sure that was his true purpose."

"It was. Gwen told me once that she'd gotten after him for being too tough on you and he confessed his reason to her."

Merlin paused outside the stable doors. He stared at Elyan, trying to judge if the knight was actually telling the truth. "Maybe… Although, I really think it was more that he just needed a moving target at times."

"There's that, too." Elyan laughed at Merlin's assessment. "The thing is, you need to find something to do that is familiar to you. I knew how to make the weapons and use them to an extent. But then, I learned how to really use them."

Picking up a pitchfork, Merlin sighed. "So, I need to find a way to do my old chores in a new way. Maybe I can convince Mithian to buy me a gilded tool. That way I won't look like a servant when I muck out the stables for her horses."

Elyan shook his head. "That isn't what I meant. Look, maybe you and Mithian should go out and tour the kingdom or something. You were always with us out on patrol. Now, you can do it and give the orders instead of just taking them."

Perhaps there was something to what Elyan was saying. He had gone to Ealdor just a few days before to see his mother, but that already felt like a lifetime ago. "Maybe getting out of the castle for a while would be a good thing."

"Sure! You can accompany me and Gwen back to Camelot."

"Well, at least to the border. I cross that line and you would be under orders to arrest me. I wouldn't want to put you in that position."

Shaking his head, Elyan chuckled. "I might not have understood his orders correctly. You know how things get confused sometimes, especially with Arthur. Plus, we'd be with the queen. She might have something different to say about it."

"Alright, fine. Do what you need to do here and let's go talk to the ladies about it. Mithian might not want to leave right now, anyway."

Elyan smiled and called out to one of the men who had accompanied them from Camelot. "Is everything ready to go for tomorrow?"

"Yes, Sir Elyan. We shall be able to depart at Her Majesty's pleasure." The young man bowed and smiled politely.

"Good. Thanks." The knight turned to leave the stables.

"Wait, that's all you came here for?" Merlin's face scrunched in confusion.

"Yeah. Also, Gwen wanted me to get you out of there before your lovely princess strangled you."

Merlin paused as they began to make their way back toward the gardens. A shadow of cloth, possibly from the edge of a cloak, caught his eye as its owner moved out of sight around the back of the stables. He thought for a moment about the note, still hidden in his boot. It was time for him to make a decision to either find out who had left it and why, or to just let it go and hope for the best. Chewing on his lower lip he finally realized that his own curiosity wouldn't be satisfied until he knew more. "Say, Elyan, why don't you go on back. I just remembered that I think I might have left something in my saddle bags from a few days ago."

The knight looked at him quizzically and Merlin worried that Elyan wasn't buying the excuse.

Shrugging and giving the man an awkward smirk, he changed his tactic to one he'd used before with Arthur on occasion. "I need to pee."

Elyan burst out laughing and clapped Merlin's shoulder. "Fine. I'll keep the ladies entertained until you take care of that."

He started moving to the backside of the stables, hoping that Elyan wouldn't think it strange. The knight, his shoulders still shaking with laughter, never looked back. Quickening his pace, Merlin's long strides carried him around to the back of the stables. He was surprised to find how close it was to the outer wall of the castle, leaving only a shadowed path between them, hidden from above by the eaves of the stable's thatched roof. His mind automatically noted how vulnerable the thin alley was to defense. It could either serve him if he ever needed to escape in the middle of the night, or be detrimental to the kingdom if someone was planning to attack. The only redeeming quality was that it opened into courtyard and paddocks on either side, leaving a potential attacker in the open for a good stretch.

Squinting his eyes, at first he didn't see anyone in shadows, but once his eyes adjusted he noticed the cloaked figure standing motionless against a wall. Merlin reached into the cuff of his boot and pulled out the parchment. "Did you leave this?"

"Not personally. I have many who serve my needs inside these walls."

Merlin tensed, instantly recognizing the voice of Lord Travis coming out from under the cowl. "If this is some sort of trick, My Lord, you're going to have to do better. I've kept Camelot safe for years and I know how to seek out those who wish to see a kingdom fall."

"And yet, the Lady Morgana has taken over the castle not once, but twice. Care to explain how that happened?"

"Simple. I was a nobody — a servant. Now, I am not." He kept his face straight; a solid block of stone that gave away no hint of the smirk he felt when he noticed the lord bristle. He couldn't help but rub in the obvious. "I am Lord of Gedref, Balinor's son and Princess Mithian's husband. With that, my word will have greater weight when it comes to calling out those who seek to harm this kingdom."

"You are still a fool, boy. Lord of Gedref is not just a title that can be bestowed on anyone of the bloodline. There is so much more to it than just being able to summon a dragon. The power of the Triple Goddess will be revealed to you soon enough, I suppose."

Merlin felt the muscles across his shoulders tighten. Hadn't Gaius mentioned something about a quest for the title? It seemed so long ago that he stood in the corridor with his mentor, after the last time he'd spoken with Arthur and many of his secrets had come to light. Those words had been lost to the back of his mind with everything that had taken place afterward. "What do you mean?"

"Long before Rodor's people came to these lands, my family ruled here. We are not so different, you and I. Both our families held power beyond what these others could imagine. The power of the Old Religion reigned for centuries. It will rule again soon. I wish to offer you an opportunity to be a part of that revolution and prove yourself worthy."

"And here I just thought you coveted my wife." He sneered and thought about how much like Morgana the old lord sounded.

The cowl dropped back just enough for Merlin to see the cold glint in the other man's eyes. "Mithian was only a means to an end for me, but that was before I knew you existed. What I offer you can secure us both what we desire. You wish to live happily with her at your side. I wish to reclaim the power my family once had. We could rule these lands together and be rid of those who have sought to destroy our kind…people like the Pendragons. For generations, those of Roman descent have fought to subdue and destroy us, only placating us with empty promises while using us to achieve their goals. Even now, your former king has left you because of what you are."

"I've heard this speech before, Lord Travis," Merlin deadpanned and thought back over some of the people he had faced over the years. "It did not sway me then, nor will it now. I know about you summoning the Disir."

The man scoffed, his ageless elfin features frowning in disgust. "No one summons the Disir. I did petition them to take my concern before the Goddess. Their choice was not exactly what I had asked for, but I have faith that the Triple Goddess has heard my prayers. You should reconsider joining me, Merlin, before your former master makes the wrong choice. The Pendragon dynasty will fall, along with all those who align with them."

* * *

The evening sun kissed her skin and caught the reddish highlights in her hair. He watched as she picked out a small piece of fruit from the remnants of the picnic and placed it between her lips. Gwen and Elyan were nowhere to be seen. Merlin had worried that he had dallied too long, having wandered a bit through the castle grounds after meeting with Lord Travis, in order to cool off. The encounter had left him with a sour taste in his mouth and a sinking feeling in his stomach.

He wondered what Travis had meant by the Disir's choice. Merlin knew he needed to find out more, but he'd been ill-prepared to counter any of the lord's statements. If Arthur wasn't his intended target, Merlin didn't have the slightest clue who was. His greatest fear, he found, was that it somehow involved Mithian. It was quite a change in his awareness to realize just how deep his feelings ran for her.

Mithian must have felt him watching her. She turned fully toward him with a brilliant smile and beckoned him over.

He walked over and held out his hands to help her to her feet. "Sorry I took so long."

Shrugging it off, Mithian made no comment. She didn't chastise him, nor did she ask him to explain the length of his absence, even though he could see the questions filling her eyes. "I knew you would return. Elyan said you had a lot on your mind."

Merlin nodded and wrapped her arm around his as they began to walk toward the doors that lead away from the gardens.

"So, we've decided," Mithian started to tell him. "That instead of traveling to Camelot through the Forest of Gedref, that we should take this opportunity for you to show me where you grew up." Mithian smiled, excited to have found a way to get her new husband out of the confines of the city. "It was Elyan's idea, initially. But then, I thought about how your mother might like to return to Ealdor for her things. We can follow the edge of the southern border of Camelot until we reach Essetir. That way, no one has to worry about being detained or worse under a certain king's orders."

Merlin chuckled and shook his head. He was glad to hear of her plans, though he continued to gnaw on his worry over Travis' intentions. Aside from the cryptic words, it seemed he wasn't just after Nemeth's crown, but had designs on even more of Albion.

Merlin could never find the drive inside himself to bring back the Old Religion. Numerous times he'd been told how he was a creature of the Old Religion; a being of magic. Yet, he'd always felt more in touch with the druids than he did the other followers of the Old Religion. Even then, his empathy with them only extended so far. Perhaps it was because he hadn't been raised to know the old ways in the manner others had. Then, there were people like Mordred, who seemed to throw their heritage aside for something new; a chance that offered a way to fight for what appeared to be a just cause.

Then, there were others like Morgana, who were forced into it as a way to find themselves. He couldn't blame Morgana for being so devoted to her Goddess, but there hadn't been a way to make her see that there could be another way to achieve her goals. Eradicating everything that created a person could only lead to self-destruction. Travis was certainly more patient and calculating than Morgana. He'd had years of practice. It surprised Merlin that the man had actually met him in person and not sent some loyal devotee to make the proposition. Perhaps he knew that Merlin would have been even more irritated. Judging by the conversation, however, Merlin got the feeling that while Travis knew who Merlin's father was, he did not seem to connect it all to the fact that Merlin was also Emrys.

Merlin's mind went to the fact that his grandfather's surname had been Emrys. Perhaps Travis already knew, or like Morgana, he was ignorant of the druids' prophecies. One thing was certain; Merlin was looking forward to getting out from under all of it for a while. The past week had been extremely intense; a complete upheaval of everything he'd ever known. It would be great to get out of the castle and go on a journey with his new wife and his mother, accompanied by friends. Maybe he'd get a chance to actually get to know Mithian, beyond the bond they already shared and learn to trust in someone aside from himself.

Just before the door, he leaned down and captured her smiling lips in a kiss. "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea. Have you told my mother yet?"

Mithian shook her head, a rare, timid look in her eyes.

"Oh, come on. My Mother isn't that scary."

"No! She's not scary at all!" Her chuckles sent her dark waves of hair bouncing around her face. "I grew up with my father and all his noble lords. Having someone as dear as Hunith around is not something I am used to. I had a governess when I was younger, but…"

Merlin wrapped his arms around her. Not having grown up with a father, he knew where she was coming from. The hole left inside when a parent was dead, or in his case completely unknown, could feel like the deepest of caverns at times. He'd been lucky that his mother had sent him to Gaius. At least he'd been able to find someone to help fill the void until the day he'd met his real father. Mithian had lost her mother so young, and she'd never truly had anyone to replace the woman.

"You go," Mithian said, composing herself as best she could. "You haven't spent much time with her since bringing her to Nemeth. I promised Queen Guinevere and her brother that I would show them our castle forges before they left. I truly think they will appreciate the craftsmanship of our blacksmith."

What she said was true, but he could sense that despite the rapport she and his mother shared, she wasn't sure how to properly approach Hunith. He parted from Mithian with another lingering kiss and a promise that he would meet her for a private dinner in their chambers later.


	32. Connecting Dots

"This is beautiful." Mithian seemed almost in tears as she cradled the small wooden dragon.

While they had been out, the servants had brought Merlin's personal items from the chambers he'd been staying in. Along with the things he'd brought, the stuff that Gaius had managed to get out of Camelot was also piled neatly in the corner of the room where Merlin would now be living with his new bride. Merlin had gone to speak with his mother before joining Mithian for dinner. During the entire time they were eating, his eyes kept drifting to the pile.

Finally, once the dishes were cleared away by servants, he and Mithian began to go through the items, discovering the hidden treasures Merlin had acquired throughout the years.

He smiled at the way she placed the carving as the centerpiece of the mantle above the fireplace. "It looks like it found a home. My father made that for me. It's the only thing I have of him... well, aside from being a Dragon Lord."

He walked up behind her and put his arms around her waist. She leaned back against him, sighing contentedly.

"When I was speaking with my father before the wedding, he was talking about going through some of the old records. He thinks that your grandfather had left quite a large inheritance to your father in his care. But, after Balinor disappeared many things were put aside and forgotten."

"I don't need an inheritance. I have all the wealth in the world, right here in my arms."

When she turned her head to look at him, he leaned down and captured her lips.

"You are such a romantic." Giggling, she pulled away and continued to dig through his belongings. "However, you shouldn't expect me to pay for everything for you. It is quite expensive to be a noble."

Her words, though teasing and lighthearted, made Merlin flinch. It was the main reason he'd kept his letters anonymous to her for so many years. He felt he had nothing to offer her other than himself. He started toward her suddenly when he saw her pull out the spell book. His ingrained fear of being found out was a natural reaction after so many years of secrecy.

He barely stopped himself from snatching the book out of her hands. "Um..."

Mithian cocked her head and looked at him quizzically. "What is it?"

"Gaius gave me that book my first week in Camelot. If Arthur had ever found it, I would have been dead." He pursed his lips nervously while holding out his hands. She passed him the book, seeming to understand how precious it was to her new husband.

Merlin took it and with trembling fingers, he unwrapped it from the cloth that protected it. Mithian watched him, waiting for him to continue. After he unlatched it, he turned to one of the first spells he'd ever learned from the book. It was the one that he'd used to enchant Lancelot's weapon that killed the griffin. "I had such a difficult time learning how to read and pronounce these words in the beginning. Gaius worked with me most evenings after my chores were done, on how to read the language of the Old Religion. I may have been born with magic, but learning how to use it properly and to read it took a lot of studying."

"You are amazing, Merlin," she said proudly, wrapping her arm around his and leaning her head against his shoulder. "There are so many things you have accomplished. Now you need to learn something new."

"How to not be a servant?"

"Sort of. As nobility, we are servants of a sort. We serve the people that live in our kingdom to ensure that they are taken care of, either through the might of our armies or the compassion of our judgments. I am certain we have a lot we can learn from each other. You can teach me more about those who weren't born into privilege and bring an even greater sensitivity to the way we handle things."

Merlin smiled, his shoulders relaxing and falling. "I think going to Ealdor will help with that."

It had been decided earlier that day that Mithian, Merlin, and Hunith - along with an empty wagon and some guards - would accompany Gwen and Elyan's group east along the borders of the kingdoms toward Ealdor. It was a bit out of the way for typical travel between Nemeth and Camelot, but it would give the queen and Merlin more time to figure out if there might be a way to help ease Arthur into accepting Merlin's new status.

Merlin considered the route they would be taking while half-heartedly flipping through the pages of the book. Mithian had moved away and was trying not to cringe at the state of the few spare articles of clothing she was extracting from the bundles of his meager possessions.

"I think we should save these and throw them on the bonfire at Samhain," she joked, though Merlin barely heard her.

"Sure..." he said absently. His eyes were fixed on a page in the book, scrutinizing the words before him. "I need to go speak with Gaius before we leave in the morning."

In the middle of the page was the same coin he'd seen in his vision: the Runemark. However, the words around it were even more important than the actual item. It described a previous time when the mark had been given to a Dragon Lord. The man had been a sort of king among those who had the ability to call and control the great creatures. When he and his people had arrived from somewhere far to the north, they had enslaved many of the magical folk who were native to Albion.

Although the book did not go into detail, it seemed as is the entire land was on the verge of a great uprising. When the judgment was passed by the Disir, a warrior-king came forth at their call. While he had no magic himself, he had a great mind for strategy and warfare. He was given the means to destroy the dragons in exchange for helping to free the people of Albion. His name was Uther Pendragon.

Merlin snapped the book closed and tucked it under his arm. "I'll be back!" He called to Mithian as he headed out the door.

"Oh no, you don't! I'm coming with you."

Merlin froze. He was at a complete loss as to what he could say or do to prevent her from following him. "Really, I'll just be gone..."

"You already disappeared on me once today, and I did not ask then where you had gone. Do not do me the discourtesy of pushing me away for a second time during our first day as husband and wife."

There was a fire burning in her eyes as she stared him down; a glimpse of the ruler she would one day become as she challenged him to defy her. Merlin felt a smile form. It gave him a wonderfully novel feeling to have someone on his side and not letting him get away with his usual tactics. He could see that in the future they were going to have many arguments over the subject. The challenge was going to be learning to trust her and finding a balance, but he was looking forward to it.

Her defiance set a passion blazing inside of him. He almost threw the book aside as he felt the desire to take her into his arms grow.

Blinking back the heat welling up inside of himself, he forced his mind to regain control of his body. There would be time enough later in the evening to do what he wanted to his new wife. Sighing melodramatically, he shrugged and nodded. "Um... alright. If you insist."

Judging by the way she stood gaping, he could tell that he'd thrown her by his easy acceptance. By the gods, how he loved teasing her. He felt he could say with absolute certainty that their marriage was going to be anything but dull.

"Come on, let's go find Gaius." Holding out his hand, he waited as she hesitated for a moment. "I promise you, it's not a trap."

"I didn't think it would be." Her eyes narrowed, questioning his motives.

Merlin couldn't help but laugh as he moved forward and kissed away her confusion. "There is some history in here about the Runemark. I just need to find Gaius and ask him about it."

* * *

"I can't believe that something like this is actually in this book." Gaius turned to the next page. Noticing that there was nothing else pertinent to the information displayed, he flipped back to the previous one with the Runemark. "I honestly don't recall this being in here before, but then it has been years since I even looked inside this book. You say you actually saw Arthur received this Runemark from the sorcerer?"

Merlin nodded. He leaned carefully against the edge of the solid, wooden table. It had once been the room of King Rodor's physician.

He was glad that Mithian had been distracted on their way to find Gaius. The place looked and smelled more like a witch's hut than the chambers of a man who studied medicine. As it turned out, one of the servants had approached her not long after they'd left their chambers. It seemed a man was waiting at the castle gates wishing to speak with her. Having arrived after dark, the guards were reluctant to let him in without proper authorization.

Mithian would have been better dressed for the dungeons of Camelot than the vile, unkempt cave that used to house the old healer. He could tell right away that the place had been left intact and probably sealed after the man's death. Of course, Merlin didn't know anyone in their right mind who would be brave enough to even try to clean up the mess. It needed a good scrubbing at the very least.

"Why are you down here? I thought King Rodor would have given you a better place to sleep than this."

Some sort of gelatinous mixture had spilled from broken vials on a nearby workbench. Whatever it once had been had been acidic enough to leave a burned ring around the outside edge. He looked around for something to clean it up. Then, he remembered that he was not wearing clothes that would be as forgiving as his normal attire if he were to stain them, nor had Gaius brought the leather apron that Merlin had occasionally used when they were working with some of the more potent solutions that Gaius mixed.

"I am not sleeping here, Merlin. I came down here after I examined the king to see if his physician had left any notes about King Rodor's symptoms and what he had done thus far to treat him."

"Any luck?"

"None… and you should focus a bit more on what really matters right now. So, tell me more about this vision you had."

Merlin described it as much as he could. It had been as if he was actually there with Arthur, but he couldn't interact. He told Gaius what the sorcerer had said about judgment being passed on Arthur and that he had a choice to make.

"What I don't get is: why now? Why Arthur? I mean, Uther was the one who started the Purge."

Gaius nodded slowly. "First off, what good is judging a man who refuses to be swayed? Uther would have renewed his efforts against magic at the first whisper of something like this."

Huffing and mumbling under his breath, Merlin couldn't argue with Gaius' statement. "What I want to know is who it was that was given the ability to kill the dragons when this happened last time." He motioned to the vague reference in the book.

"Judging by the context and what I personally witnessed, I would have to say it was in all likelihood, Uther himself."

Merlin stood up and turned fully toward Gaius. "What do you mean?"

The old man sat back in the chair and folded his hands together across his chest. He was lost in thought for a few moments as he searched his memories. "Not all the Dragon Lords were as peaceful as your grandfather was. Many of them from further north thought of themselves as gods compared to everyone else, including those with magic. Uther's predecessor had tried to keep the peace for some time, but then he died and Uther returned to Camelot. Everything changed and a war began.

"I remember we were approached by a man. I think I saw his son at your wedding last night. He was descended from the original people of these lands and he offered his sister's child's hand in marriage to Uther, in exchange for giving him the means to destroy the dragons. Uther accepted and promised to marry her once the war was won.

"However, unbeknownst to many of us, Uther had already secretly married a Norman princess, the Lady Ygraine du Bois."

Merlin rolled his eyes and chuckled. It honestly didn't surprise him to find out that little tidbit of information. "How'd he get out of the arrangement with this other one, then?"

"Well, that is where the tale becomes really fascinating. The man's niece was the Lady Vivienne."

"Morgana's mother?"

Gaius nodded solemnly. "Indeed. When Uther was approached after the war, he claimed that his Council refused to accept his arrangement since Vivienne's mother was a High Priestess and claimed she did not know who the father was. Somehow, Uther managed to convince them that it would be better if Vivienne married his general, Gorlois. However, he also accepted Vivienne's mother to his Council ... Nimueh."

Blue eyes widened in shock. "I didn't know that Nimueh was Morgana's grandmother!"

"I must remind you that there are many things you still do not know." Gaius chuckled in that infuriating way that showed he still thought of Merlin as a boy some days.

The whole situation seemed oddly coincidental. "You said you saw someone at the wedding who was the man's son?" When Gaius nodded, Merlin tried to recall anyone who might have fit the description who was at the wedding. Without knowing most of the people, and his focus having been more on Mithian than anyone else, he couldn't be sure. "What was the name of Nimueh's brother?"

"I believe it was Travis, or...? Merlin?" Gaius questioned when Merlin stiffened.

"That was Lord Travis you saw, not one of his sons."

"Oh, my. Well, he seems to share his sister's ability for appearing much younger than he is."

Merlin sighed and sank back down onto the desk. "He approached me today. Wanted me join him."

"Have you told Mithian or King Rodor?"

Merlin shook his head. "I was going to, but I don't know what to say. Mithian said she overheard Travis and Sebastian talking about the Disir and Arthur the morning I summoned Kilgharrah. Then, when I asked Kilgharrah about it, he was actually — and very surprisingly — more helpful than usual. But, he still didn't give me much to go on. The thing is, there was something Lord Travis said that gave me the feeling he hadn't gone through all this trouble because of Arthur. He wasn't upset by it, but he mentioned all the Pendragons, and even told me that the Disir hadn't given him exactly what he'd asked for."

"Do you think he has any knowledge about Morgana? Nimueh had already fled Camelot before Morgana was born. However, everyone in the Five Kingdoms knows that she is Uther's daughter by now."

"Maybe. But, that wouldn't make any sense. She has been trying to take over Camelot and bring back magic — or so she claims."

"It takes gold to wage wars. Morgause had King Cenred. Did it ever occur to you that Morgana might have had a benefactor after her sister died? And with all of her failed attempts…"

An exhausted laugh issued forth. Of course, she would have needed gold to buy her slaves in Ismere among all of her other attempts. The recent alliance with Odin had seemed to be a fairly new development. Her plan to use Mithian to lure Arthur to a trap had been hastily thought out, and the strain on Morgana in maintaining the magical disguise had taken its toll.

"You think her great uncle was giving her an allowance?" Merlin asked rhetorically.

Gaius simply shrugged and smiled as if he had put the pieces together long ago. Whether he had or not was something Merlin would probably never find out.

"So, if he had intended for Morgana to be the one to receive that Runemark, but they chose Arthur instead..."

"There may be some chance for Arthur to prove himself worthy. As I said before: what good is passing judgment on someone who is unwilling to change."

"Lord Merlin?" A humble voice called from the door to the chambers.

Merlin cringed and shook his head, still unable to wrap his mind around the title that now accompanied his name. He was glad it had happened here, though, instead of in Camelot. It would have been extremely awkward to hear someone like George trying to use it while not giving him tips on how to clean. "Yes?"

"Princess Mithian requests your presence in the Main Hall."

Merlin gave one last look to his mentor who waved him off.

"Go," Gaius said, "I still have a few things I need to look into before I leave for Camelot tomorrow."

* * *

A thick mist hung in the air and clung to his clothes. Even beneath the padding, armor, and cloak, Gwaine felt the moisture. It clung heavily against his skin, causing his hair to be caught somewhere between frizzing and hanging limply over his scalp. He almost thought he wouldn't make it to Nemeth that night. At least twice he'd considered finding someplace drier along the road and stopping. If the mist had ever become an actual rain, he would have, even though there weren't many places to rest between the Eastern Garrison of Camelot and Nemeth. He rolled his eyes, thinking of how the place was more southwest of Camelot than east.

When he'd first joined the ranks of Arthur's knights and learned the layout of the land, he'd questioned the name, only to be told that it had once been the Eastern Garrison of a neighboring kingdom. When it had come under Camelot's jurisdiction, the name had stayed the same - as that was what everyone already knew it as. Some things just didn't make sense to him. He honestly thought it was more confusing than sensible, but no one had ever accused the late King Uther of having much sense.

He smiled gaily at the guards who were standing beneath the overhanging parapets of the castle gates. They eyed him suspiciously and maintained their distance, not even offering him a place to sit and relax. Wasn't he just here a few days earlier with King Arthur? For that matter, Queen Guinevere was visiting Nemeth. Though why they kept giving him disparaging looks, he couldn't quite understand. Alright, so it was nearly the middle of the night and they had probably been standing guard already for the last day. He didn't proclaim any urgency to meet with Camelot's Queen, nor did he demand an audience with King Rodor to convey a message from King Arthur.

Since Morgana's attack, they were probably more wary than usual. So, Gwaine sighed and waited; thinking they could have at least offered him a drink.

"Sir Gwaine!" The delicate and perfectly beautiful voice of Nemeth's princess called out from the gate and beckoned him inside. Merlin was a lucky man to get to wake up to her voice.

She had a cloak pulled tightly around her to ward off the damp fog.

"I'm surprised you came out yourself to let me in, Your Highness." He smiled flirtatiously and bowed dramatically.

"Well, you did request an audience with me and my husband, I believe."

"Yes, I did. Where is Merlin, anyway? Sorry, Lord Merlin."

"He had a few things to discuss with Gaius. Come, let's get you inside. A groom can take care of your horse and give him a good rub down."

Gwaine passed off the reins to one of the grumpy guardsmen and patted the man on the shoulder, nearly laughing at how uncomfortable the man was in the situation. He walked alongside the princess up to the main castle.

* * *

 

"How was the wedding? Merlin didn't try to run away did he?"

"No," she chuckled. "It was beautiful. Thank you for asking. I think the only time my new husband wanted to run was during the feast afterward when he was being introduced."

"Can't say that I blame him. That would make me want to run away, too."

They were sitting by one of the hearths in the Main Hall. A warmed tankard of spiced mead was clutched in his hand, while his boots dried near the fire. Mithian had sent a servant to go find Merlin, and another to inform Queen Guinevere and her brother of the knight's arrival. While they waited for the others to arrive, they passed the time by sharing different thoughts on Merlin and his new place in the world.

Mithian was describing the wedding and the feast that followed, detailing how uncomfortable Merlin had been during the entire thing. She was proud of him, though, and Gwaine could see the unbridled love she had for her new husband.

"Did he treat you right after the wedding?" Gwaine asked with a teasing twinkle in his deep brown eyes.

Mithian blushed. "Sir Gwaine! I hardly think that is any of your business. Nor is it an appropriate question for any sort of civilized conversation."

He smirked and sipped on his mead while she shifted uncomfortably in the chair nearby, her face growing redder as the seconds passed.

"If you must know, however, then yes." Her lips formed a thin line while she tried to regain control of her internal thoughts.

"Really?" he pressed, enjoying the princess' flustered embarrassment.

She broke and giggled, her face lighting up like a beacon in the shadowed room. "Yes, he really did."

Gwaine chortled in amusement. He could see exactly why Merlin had been so infatuated with her for the past few years. The knight had been the only one who knew of Merlin's desire and had helped him a time or two in arranging for Mithian to receive the tokens and notes. Although, he hadn't ever thought it would go this far.

"Gwaine, what are you doing with my wife?"

Gwaine's jaw hit the floor. He rubbed his hand over his face and down over the scruff of his chin, wondering if he was in the right place. Rarely had he ever seen Merlin scrubbed up so well. The times he recalled could have been counted on one hand. When Arthur was crowned as King of Camelot; Arthur's marriage, then the subsequent coronation of Guinevere as his queen.

Merlin's face and hands were clean; his nails neatly manicured instead of ends chewed. The clothes he wore were a far cry from the ratty neckerchief and worn jacket he typically had on over a coarsely woven shirt and patched trousers. Merlin was every inch a noble in his long sapphire-blue tunic, black trousers, and knee-high polished boots. Gwaine noticed he still hadn't given up his neckerchief, though. A dark lavender silk one peaked out from his high collar.

What hit Gwaine as the oddest part of it all was Merlin's smile. Sure, his friend had seemed happy most of the time. Merlin would smile and joke with the knights as if he were one of them, even if he hadn't officially been a knight himself. But over the past few years, the light in Merlin's eyes had dimmed to the point the man was almost unrecognizable at times. It lifted Gwaine's spirits to see the spark of life come back to his best friend.

"Speak of the devil!" He gave his friend a feisty grin. "I was just asking Her Highness about your wedding."

"Uh huh." Merlin looked completely unconvinced as his eyes shifted between his best friend and his wife.

Gwaine stood up and met Merlin halfway across the Hall in a brotherly hug. Pulling back, he looked his friend over with approval. "Nobility looks good on you, Merlin."

"Thanks. You should try it some time," Merlin teased. He was the only one who knew about Gwaine's father and the two men laughed heartily at their inside joke.

"Naw. I think I'm good," he said as they moved back toward the fireplace.

He watched as Mithian stood up and Merlin pulled her into his arms, kissing her possessively as a silent reminder to Gwaine not to take his flirting too far with this woman. Or, at least that was the knight's first impression. However, when Merlin stepped back Gwaine could tell the passion in their embrace had nothing to do with showing off or marking territory. The princess and the former servant were truly in love with each other.

"What brings you to Nemeth?" Merlin questioned, pulling a stool up next to his wife and sitting down. "Not that I'm going to complain at all, but I thought you would be with Arthur."

The knight didn't miss the underlying tone of concern that was masked by Merlin's smile. "Leon said he'd play nanny for a while and sent me off to come celebrate your marriage, even if I am a bit late for the actual party."

"Leon?" Merlin asked, his eyes widening slightly at the implication.

A slight nod that hid the seriousness of the situation was all that Gwaine could offer before a servant announced from the door that Queen Guinevere and her brother had arrived. They crossed the room and greeted the others. Gwen's face was strained as she asked him about Arthur.

"He's fine. Probably back in Camelot and safe in his bed by now."

"Well, that's a relief. After what Merlin told us about his vision and the Runemark..." She stopped when Gwaine turned a questioning look at his friend. "Oh, he hadn't told you about that yet, I see."

"No." He stared at Merlin, his penetrating gaze demanding answers. "He hasn't. Someone care to fill me in?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Costuming and proofreading courtesy of Nance.


	33. Gambles

 

"Merlin, wake up," she whispered, feeling regret that she had to force him out of bed. It was among the few, well only times really, when he was quiet and still. However, they had planned to leave for Ealdor by mid-morning and Gaius was already preparing for his journey to Camelot. She knew Merlin would want to say farewell to the man who had been like a father to him for so long.

With their own plans to tour Nemeth after seeing to his mother's belongings in the small village, she wasn't sure when Merlin would get the next chance to see Gaius. It didn't help matters that there had been no word yet from Arthur about any sort of reconciliation. Merlin was still effectively banished from the kingdom he had called home for the past ten years.

He muttered something and rolled away from her, the blanket across him slipping a bit and exposing most of his sculpted body. If they weren't worried about time, she might have taken advantage of it and woken him up in a more sensual manner. "Come on. It's time to get out of bed, my love."

His eyes fluttered open and a deep breath signaled that he was finally beginning to wake up. Just the glimpse of their blue depths sent her heart fluttering. They were as dark as the ocean, filled with a deep mystery but with such a tenderness that seemed to be only reserved for those he cared about. Mithian counted herself so lucky to be a included among them. She could get lost in those eyes and never want to find her way back.

"What?" He drawled out, squinting and running a hand through his mess of dark hair. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Mithian shifted her shoulders and smiled, unable to tell him just how much he meant to her. Before it was revealed that he was her secret admirer, she'd had a vision of who the man could have been. For a long while, she had wondered which one of Arthur's knights would be so bold to send her gifts, yet so cowardly as to keep his identity hidden. Her mind had wandered from the tall, Sir Leon with his curly hair and expressive smile. Yet, he had been dismissed from her daydreams when she discovered he was already betrothed. Sir Elyan simply wasn't her type, nor did he seem to have the mental capacity for the elegant, yet brief notes. Sir Percival seemed like a kind, quiet man, but again he didn't fit the part of what she envisioned. Sir Gwaine loved women and appeared to be quite the romantic. However, she couldn't see him ever settling down, or even carrying on as long as the secret suitor had.

Not once had she even considered Merlin. At least, she hadn't before Morgana had attacked and taken Mithian to Camelot. Yet, when he did reveal himself, everything fit together perfectly. The moment he kissed her in the stables, she knew that there would never be another man who would make her feel the way he did.

Leaning over him, she kissed him gently. Her husband. "Even if you were still a servant, I would have married you."

"I'm glad." He reached up and brushed a lock of her chestnut hair behind her ear before pulling her down into another kiss.

Oh, how she wanted to stay and enjoy their time together. She wanted to get to know every aspect of him.

There would be time enough for that later, she told herself and pushed off the bed, away from his tantalizing body before walking across the room. "Come on. If you don't get up now, then you're going to miss seeing Gaius off. You also said something last night about wanting to speak to my father before we left. And, while I wouldn't mind seeing you walk around the castle without a single piece of clothing on, I am not sure he would feel the same."

"Alright," he grumbled. "You think my new neckerchief from Gwen would be too much?"

She paused and turned to look at him in confusion. "No. I think it would be fine. Why?"

"Well, just wondering if I would need to put on something else with it, or..."

Mithian's cheeks reddened when she realized what he was implying. She quickly snatched up a pillow from a nearby chair and threw it at him. "Yesterday, you complained about simply walking across the room naked. Now you want to parade yourself in front of my father wearing nothing but your neckerchief?" She planted her hands on her hips. By the gods, how she loved him, but sometimes what he said was infuriating. "And I used to wonder why Arthur was always throwing things at you."

His infectious laughter followed her as she spun on her heel and stalked out of the room, determined not to grin.

* * *

The solemn nod was enough to tell Gaius that Merlin understood the seriousness of the situation that the King of Nemeth faced. Merlin had come in while Gaius was with the king, explaining a bit more about the disease he suspected was the cause of the king's failing health. The young man seemed like he needed to get something off his chest, so Gaius beckoned him to follow as he left the King's Chambers.

"Do you think my magic could help?" Merlin asked as they approached the doors to the courtyard.

Gaius sighed and shook his head. "Unfortunately, I don't. Even the most skilled of magical healers would have a difficult time with such an disease. Do you recall Lord Hugues a few years back?"

Merlin nodded again. It had been one of the first autopsies Merlin had assisted Gaius with. "Hard to forget the first time you see the innards of a man opened up on a table."

"Well, if you recall, the reason for his death was the gland known as the prostate."

"Yes. It didn't look anything like what was in your books."

"Exactly." Gaius had realized after searching through the body that a cancer had spread throughout it. Normally, he would have been able to come to the same conclusion without needing to cut a man open after his death, but it had been a training exercise for Merlin. Also, the king wanted to be sure that it was nothing magical, though where Uther had heard Hugues death might have been because of sorcery, Gaius was never able to discover. "Sadly, tumors like that will continue to grow in a man's body, even after magic has been used to cure them. The most that could be accomplished would be to buy some time. However, I have seen it used only to have the malignancy return nearly twice as fast as it had grown the first time."

"And you're sure that's what's going on."

"No, Merlin. I am not one-hundred percent certain, but it seems the most likely diagnosis. I have a few remedies that I can create to help ease his symptoms."

"How long do you think he has?"

Gaius paused at the bottom of the grand stairs that spilled out into the courtyard. While he was certain of his diagnosis, it was nearly impossible to estimate how far the disease had spread within Rodor's body. It could be weeks or it could be months. Due to the king's tenacity, he might very well outlive Gaius himself. "I really can't say. Did you tell him about the things we spoke of last night?"

"No. I'd come in there this morning intent on telling him that I now know why Travis seems to hate Camelot. Maybe Rodor already knows that Uther was supposed to save Lord Travis' people, but...well... he was Uther, his word meant nothing if he had already made other plans before it. I suspect that's why Travis is doing this now. It's a way to avenge his niece being passed over for another woman, and then to have her dishonored like that."

"If you had known the Lady Vivienne..." Gaius trailed off and shook his head. "But, no more on that. Do you want me to pass along any messages for you?" He knew that Merlin was worried about Arthur, though he never said a word about it.

Merlin paused and considered for a moment, and then shrugged. "I don't know what you could tell him. I don't want to influence his decision any."

"Don't you?" He sighed. It was not easy to watch the two boys he knew being torn so far apart by circumstances beyond their control. They had each grown into strong, upstanding men with good heads on their shoulders and kindness in their hearts. If only he could fathom a way to bring them together, but Gaius felt it would take a miracle beyond his capabilities to do such a thing.

Merlin was right, though. Arthur needed the space to make up his own mind, especially with the judgment of the Disir hanging over him. The young king had seen the good and the evils of sorcery first hand. It was up to him alone to either accept the old ways, or move on.

"Just tell him to watch his back. Oh, and not to step on his shirts after he's thrown them on the floor. He could at least have that much consideration for whoever replaced me."

Gaius chuckled, "My dear boy, whatever makes you think he could replace you?"

"Merlin! Over here," Mithian called from near the wagon that was being prepared for their trip to Ealdor.

The two men noticed that it was being loaded with more supplies than what would be needed for the journey.

"I hope that's not her luggage," Merlin muttered through his teeth as he forced a smile and waved at his wife.

"Well, you did marry a true princess, my boy."

Gaius parted from his ward with a hug and well wishes for a safe journey before making his way over to his own horse. He was surprised to find Elyan waiting for him.

The dark knight patted the neck of Gaius' horse, while he held it steady as the old man clambered up the provided stepping block to straddle his mount.

"Are you sure you don't want to ride with us to Ealdor, Gaius?"

The physician looked down and smiled as he picked up the reins. "Honestly, I would love to, Sir Elyan. Unfortunately, there are some things I need to attend to in Camelot."

While Rodor's physician's chambers had appeared well stocked, Gaius wasn't about to take a chance that something might have been mislabeled, nor would he have wanted to put any effort into trying to discern the age and potency of the herbs. If it had been an emergency, perhaps he might have taken the chance. However, he much preferred to use his own supplies. He knew exactly where each had come from and how long they'd been sitting on his shelves.

He thought about what he had said to Merlin about King Rodor. There really was no way of knowing how long the man had left, but Rodor was determined to have something to ease his pain long enough for Mithian to at least settle into her new marriage before he worried about his remaining time. Soon enough, she would be queen. Now, with Merlin at her side, Rodor was comforted to know that she would not be alone. He had no doubts, as he had expressed to Gaius during their conversation, that Mithian would become a brilliant ruler either way. But, knowing she was to be protected by Balinor's son gave the old king satisfaction that no one would be able to take advantage of her kindness.

He'd riddled Gaius with questions about Merlin. Everything from his medical knowledge and abilities with magic to the young man's day-to-day interactions with those around him. Rodor had taken Merlin in because of his father, but now wanted to be assured that he'd made the right decision. For once, Gaius allowed himself to be open about his former ward and apprentice. It was the least he could do for the ailing king. But now, it was time for him to head home. He had patients who needed him, as well as searching for remedies that would ease Rodor's suffering.

Shifting in the saddle, he glanced ahead to the two guards who would be accompanying him home. "I will inform Arthur of your plans to travel to Ealdor before returning home."

"Thank you. Gwen knows he's going to be in a bit of a state because of it. Sorry for that." Elyan cringed. Both he and Gaius knew to expect Arthur to first throw a fit before sulking until his queen returned home. "Oh, and if you could, you know the anniversary of my father's death is coming soon?"

Gaius nodded. He remembered well when Tom had been killed trying to escape Uther's dungeons.

"Percival has been helping me to work on something; a marker, actually. Arthur gave his blessing on it and it's a surprise for Gwen. If you could ask him to have it in place before the date, I'd be in your debt. I want to take her there on our way back from Ealdor," the dark-skinned knight explained.

"It would be my pleasure."

Signaling that he was ready to the guards, they made their way out of the courtyard and out onto the open road toward Camelot. He waved goodbye to Hunith and Merlin, watching as the young man helped his mother up onto the front seat of a cart.

* * *

The gamble had paid off in spades! Travis hid a gleeful smile, filled with malicious intent under the deep cowl of his cloak as he passed through the town surrounding Nemeth. A young serving boy had become a recent fixture behind the king's manservant, dashing around and running errands. He was no-one that anyone would have noticed prior to being given the position. However, Travis had his eyes and ears everywhere, always looking for the unexpected advantage. The boy's big and crooked teeth were the only anomaly that stood out amidst the plain and normal features mirrored in so many boys around the kingdom. Typically, that alone might have excluded him from work inside the castle, at least in places he would be seen.

It had taken some minor effort to find out that his father had often been called upon to repair shoes for King Rodor. The man had died and left his family in a bit of a pinch. There was an older sister, but the boy had been the one who was going to be trained to take over the family business. As it happened, though, the cobbler died before the boy had gained any useful skills. King Rodor, being as generous as he was, had intervened for the boy and a position had been found. It was just as a general dogsbody for a few of the senior servants, until recently.

The added work that the uptight manservant had to deal with lately, after Balinor's son was recognized, meant that the boy was almost a constant shadow to Darvell. After a few more inquiries, Travis had discovered that the boy's mother was ill. After that, persuading the boy had been easy. All Travis had to do was get his own healer, a druid who had been exiled from his people, to treat the boy's mother. All Travis asked for in exchange was that the boy pass along messages. A dropped note here or some eavesdropping there and it was all falling into place.

The relationship had certainly proven more fruitful than Travis had anticipated. Discovering the travel plans of the Queen of Camelot was the perfect opportune use of the boy. If what the boy had overheard was correct, then there would be a date, just under a fortnight away, when the protection around Queen Guinevere would be minimal. Travis had no intention of getting his own hands dirty, but Morgana had shown she had no such reservations.

He was still wary about giving the last high priestess another chance, but she was family - even if she didn't know it. She shared the same magical blood in her veins that connected them back to the original Fae folk. In the past, he'd secretly helped to finance her campaigns against Camelot and even her failed exploration of Ismere in the Northern Plains. If she just hadn't been so arrogant as to take some of Camelot's knights prisoner and use them in addition to the slave force he had paid for, she might have been able to uncover the Diamair. But she wasn't just arrogant... she was impatient.

He'd begun hearing rumors of the way she would even destroy others who possessed magical blood. She would be the downfall to her own kind if she wasn't careful. It was something he was sure his sister had seen in her scrying pool, and was probably the reason Nimueh had never taken in the girl for tutoring as she had with Morgana's older sister.

Morgana's time spent while captured in Sarrum's pit had damaged her even further. The young priestess hadn't even cared to find out who it was that had finally saved her. Travis had lost good men in the rescue of her and the deformed dragon. He'd been amazed to see such a young dragon even alive. Due to the malnutrition and the captivity, he couldn't tell how old the dragon was. Travis wondered if it was related to the dragon's egg that might have been lost in the Tomb of Ashkanar…yet another investment of his that had failed. He'd never even heard from Borden after that. Travis' own piece of the Triskellion had been lost in the venture. At least he hadn't needed to pay Borden the obscene amount he'd promised the man.

It was around that time that Travis had become convinced that Balinor still lived. He'd sent out spies and scouts to try and find the missing Dragon Lord. But other than an obscure lead in Essetir which only uncovered that two men, a few years earlier, had been searching for the man as well, it had all come to nothing. He and Balinor had never been friends, but he needed someone with power who was perhaps a bit more stable than Morgana.

After destroying their chances in Ismere, Morgana had then allied herself with that foolish king, Odin. Why they had decided to attack Nemeth, Travis would never know. In his mind, Nemeth should have been completely off limits to her. She didn't even seem to realize that King Rodor's stance on magic was completely different than Camelot. Morgana was getting careless. The witch had no clue who her real enemies were anymore.

Travis had wealth, but what he didn't have was a solid position at the head of a large army that could give Camelot the fight they deserved. A paid mercenary army might have worked well enough for Cenred for a time, until his niece's elder daughter had messed that up. Travis knew an army loyal to their kingdom was the only solid way he could hope to take on the elite Knights of Camelot.

It was after Morgana had nearly killed Rodor and had promised Mithian to Odin, that he'd had enough of her antics and the amazing luck of her half-brother to escape any and all of the plots against him. Travis had then decided to petition the Triple Goddess through the Disir. He not only wanted Arthur to pay for his and his father's actions over the past, but he wanted to teach Morgana a lesson, as well. Unfortunately, the Disir had only sought to judge Arthur, leaving Morgana alone. It illustrated to him that it didn't seem to matter what the witch did. She was truly the last of the trained priestesses of the Goddess, and as such, she was favored.

Fine, he thought to himself, if the Goddess still had faith in Her priestess, then Travis was willing to give her one more chance. He hoped that the serving boy's information would give Morgana the enticement she needed to help him shake Camelot to the core. Although, Arthur was favored as well, in a different way ... or, at least he had been with Balinor's son hiding secretly nearby, protecting him. Now, with Merlin attached to Nemeth and no longer serving Arthur, he felt as if the tides had shifted into his favor at last - even if the young man had refused to join him.

He finally reached a clearing just outside of Nemeth and called to a bird waiting in a nearby tree. After attaching a note to its leg, he watched the raven take flight and sent a prayer to all the Gods that this time his plans would finally be fruitful.


End file.
